


Flight

by Firestorm717, YumeArashi



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Canon, Character Death Fix, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 38,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firestorm717/pseuds/Firestorm717, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeArashi/pseuds/YumeArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Giovanni had had a little more warning, things could have happened very differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Having gone to his father's study to borrow a book, Ezio was startled when a grinding noise came from the fireplace and a secret door appeared.  Stranger still, his father emerged wearing strange white robes, heavily armed, covered in dirt and...was that blood?  "Good, Ezio, you're here.  Where are the others?" Giovanni demanded.

"Federico's downstairs, Petruccio went to bed early, and Mama and Claudia are in the sitting room.  Why?" Ezio asked nervously.  Giovanni could be stern at times, but his demeanor now was entirely alien to his son. 

He ignored Ezio's question, speaking quickly and glancing out the window as if he expected trouble.  "Get everyone together and get out of the city.  Take the passage behind this door, it lets out near the Arno's north bank.  Make for Monteriggioni, you'll be safe at your uncle Mario's villa.  Don't stop to pack, don't draw attention to yourselves.  In fact, hide your faces if you can and avoid the city guard at all costs.  You and Federico arm yourselves and protect the others if anything goes wrong."

"Papa, what's wrong?" Ezio asked, the instructions strange and frightening. 

"There's no time for questions, just do as I say, Ezio!"  Giovanni rested a hand on Ezio's shoulder, and for a moment a familiar smile graced his face.  "I need you to listen and to keep everyone safe.  Do that for me, son."

"Yes, Papa, I will.  But what about you?" Ezio said anxiously.

"I'll join you if I can, or at least send word."  He leaned forward and pulled Ezio into a brief embrace.  "No matter what happens, I love you all and want you to be happy.  Remember that."

Ezio didn't even have time to protest before his father had vanished back behind the secret door again.  Biting his lip worriedly, he went to the window to call Federico upstairs from the courtyard before hurrying to relay the strange tale to his mother.

Oddly, Maria didn't seem surprised by any of this.  "Claudia, go and wake your little brother.  No time for him to dress, just wrap him in a warm blanket and bring him to your father's study.  Ezio, Federico, get your swords and any other weapons you can find and meet us by entrance to the passage.  I'll get something we can wear on our heads and some travel money.  Make haste, children."  Her voice rose on the last words, overriding confused and fearful exclamations.

"What do you think is wrong?" Ezio asked his older brother as they ran downstairs. 

"Who knows?  Change in politics, maybe - there are plenty of people who would see il Magnifico unseated, and who wouldn't hesitate to use violence.  But it doesn't really matter.  If Father says we need to get out of town, I don't doubt it.  Hopefully it won't be for long," Federico grinned.  "Don't worry, baby brother, we'll be okay."

Ezio doubted that, but he knew Federico was trying to help and said nothing.  He'd turned back inside when something caught his ear.  "Listen," he hissed, putting a land on Federico's shoulder.  The sound was coming from the street - the harsh rattle of armored men stepping quickly.  The boys turned pale and ran upstairs, where Claudia was protesting that the sleepy and frightened Petruccio wouldn't be able to walk as far and as fast as they needed to go.  "No time," Ezio gasped, running into the room.  "The guard's nearly at the door."

Maria nodded grimly, pointing to the pile of hoods and hats.  "Pick something," she instructed, before lifting Petruccio onto her back.

"Mama, let one of us carry him," Federico protested, pulling on a dark hood.

"No, we need your sword arms free.  I carried him for nine months, I can do it for a little while longer."

From downstairs, a heavy thud, and a crash.  The soldiers hadn't even announced themselves or demanded that the family come out.  They were not here to make arrests.

Maria shepherded her family through the passageway and closed the secret door.  "That should buy us some time, but we need to be quick," she said, setting a quick pace through the tunnels despite her burden.  "If they're here, the rest of the guard will be on the watch for us.  We'll need to stick to alleys and avoid the patrols."

"Don't worry Mama, Federico and I can fight off the guards," Ezio reassured her.

Claudia gave her older brother a disgusted look.  "What, until more guards come?  Brilliant."

"Claudia, this is not the time for an argument.  But boys, she has a point.  We cannot win through by force, fighting must be an absolute last resort.  Understood?"

"Si, Mama," they chorused dutifully.

The passage let out into a tiny, nondescript courtyard some way from the main thoroughfare.  Maria set out as though she had their route already in her mind - and indeed, given her lack of surprise at the situation, she might well have prepared it in advance.  The family slipped through alleys and little-used streets with all possible haste.  Occasionally they'd meet unsavory-looking characters - but oddly, they seemed to know the family and would either melt into the shadows or approach Maria with muttered news.

The city gate was still open, but many guards vigilantly stood watch,  judging those who came and went.  Ezio's heart sank.  "We'll never get through so many of them."

"Not by fighting, no."  Maria pressed a punch of coins into Ezio's hand.  "See those courtesans over there?  Hire them to distract the guard, and when the way is clear, we'll slip through."

In spite of everything, Ezio couldn't help but chuckle as he went to do as he was told.  The guards were as shamefully lax in holding to their duties as they were shameless about pursuing the flirtatious courtesans.  The family made it through the gate, and Maria sent Ezio to hire a carriage.  Federico took the driver's seat and set out as she instructed - the pace brisk but not so fast as to be grounds for suspicion.  Ezio looked over his shoulder at the city walls, wondering when - or even if - they would be able to go home.

*****

Three days later Giovanni arrived at Monteriggioni, to a relieved welcome from his anxious and loving family.  As the fuss died down, he set and arm around his elder sons’ shoulders.  “Boys,” he said quietly, “I think it’s time I told you a little bit about the family business.”

 

*****end*****


	2. Flight (extended version)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original "Flight" ended up serving as the opening scene to a longer piece I co-wrote with a friend some time ago. By request, I've cleaned it up and here it is: what happens after Giovanni warns his family in time for them to get safely out of Florence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warnings for dubious consent (drugs & manipulation), canon-typical violence, canon minor-character death, sexual harassment, wounded characters, graphic m/m sex, sewer tunnels, still-alive!Galeazzo, open marriage, political machinations, and unrepentant fluff : )

Having gone to his father's study to borrow a book, Ezio was startled when a grinding noise came from the fireplace and a secret door appeared.  Stranger still, his father emerged wearing unusual white robes, heavily armed, covered in dirt and...was that blood?  "Good, Ezio, you're here.  Where are the others?" Giovanni demanded.

"Federico's downstairs, Petruccio went to bed early, and Mama and Claudia are in the sitting room.  Why?" Ezio asked nervously.  Giovanni could be stern at times, but his demeanor now was entirely alien to his son.  

He ignored Ezio's question, speaking quickly and glancing out the window as if he expected trouble.  "Get everyone together and get out of the city.  Take the passage behind this door, it lets out near the Arno's north bank.  Make for Monteriggioni, you'll be safe at your uncle Mario's villa.  Don't stop to pack, don't draw attention to yourselves.  In fact, hide your faces if you can and avoid the city guard at all costs.  You and Federico arm yourselves and protect the others if anything goes wrong."

"Papa, what's wrong?" Ezio asked, the instructions strange and frightening.  

"There's no time for questions, just do as I say, Ezio!"  Giovanni rested a hand on Ezio's shoulder, and for a moment a familiar smile graced his face.  "I need you to listen and to keep everyone safe.  Do that for me, son."

"Yes, Papa, I will.  But what about you?" Ezio asked anxiously.

"I'll join you if I can, or at least send word."  He leaned forward and pulled Ezio into a brief embrace.  "No matter what happens, I love you all and want you to be happy.  Remember that."

Ezio didn't even have time to protest before his father vanished back behind the secret door again.  Biting his lip worriedly, he went to the window to call Federico upstairs from the courtyard before hurrying to relay the strange tale to his mother.

Oddly, Maria didn't seem surprised by any of this.  "Claudia, go and wake your little brother.  No time for him to dress, just wrap him in a warm blanket and bring him to your father's study.  Ezio, Federico, get your swords and any other weapons you can find and meet us by the passage entrance.  I'll get something we can wear on our heads and some coin for travel.  Make haste, children."  Her voice rose on the last words, overriding confused and fearful exclamations.

"What do you think is wrong?" Ezio asked his older brother as they ran downstairs.  

"Who knows?  Change in politics, maybe - there are plenty of people who would see il Magnifico unseated, and who wouldn't hesitate to use violence.  But it doesn't really matter.  If Father says we need to get out of town, I don't doubt it.  Hopefully it won't be for long," Federico grinned.  "Don't worry, baby brother, we'll be okay."

Ezio doubted that, but he knew Federico was trying to help and said nothing.  He'd turned back inside when something caught his ear.  "Listen," he hissed, putting a hand on Federico's shoulder.  The sound was coming from the street - the harsh rattle of armored men marching quickly.  The boys turned pale and ran upstairs, where Claudia was protesting that the sleepy and frightened Petruccio wouldn't be able to walk as far and as fast as they needed to go.  "No time," Ezio gasped, running into the room.  "The guard's nearly at the door."

Maria nodded grimly, pointing to the pile of hoods and hats.  "Pick something," she instructed, before lifting Petruccio onto her back.

"Mama, let one of us carry him," Federico protested, pulling on a dark hood.

"No, we need your sword arms free.  I carried him for nine months, I can do it for a little while longer."

From downstairs, a heavy thud, and a crash.  The soldiers hadn't even announced themselves or demanded that the family come out.  They were not here to make arrests.

Maria shepherded her family through the passageway and closed the secret door.  "That should buy us some time, but we need to be quick," she said, setting a quick pace through the tunnels despite her burden.  "If they're here, the rest of the guard will be on the watch for us.  We'll need to stick to alleys and avoid the patrols."

"Don't worry Mama, Federico and I can fight off the guards," Ezio reassured her.

Claudia gave her older brother a disgusted look.  "What, until more guards come?  Brilliant."

"Claudia, this is not the time for an argument.  But boys, she has a point.  We cannot win through force, fighting must be an absolute last resort.  Understood?"

"Si, Mama," they chorused dutifully.

The passage let out into a tiny, nondescript courtyard some way from the main thoroughfare.  Maria set out as though she had their route already in her mind - and indeed, given her lack of surprise at the situation, she might well have prepared it in advance.  The family slipped through alleys and little-used streets with all possible haste.  Occasionally they'd meet unsavory-looking characters - but oddly, they seemed to know the family and would either melt into the shadows or approach Maria with muttered news.

The city gate was still open, but many guards vigilantly stood watch,  judging those who came and went.  Ezio's heart sank.  "We'll never get through so many of them."

"Not by fighting, no."  Maria pressed a pouch of coins into Ezio's hand.  "See those courtesans over there?  Hire them to distract the guard, and when the way is clear, we'll slip through."

In spite of everything, Ezio couldn't help but chuckle as he went to do as he was told.  The guards were as shamefully lax in holding to their duties as they were shameless about pursuing the flirtatious courtesans.  The family made it through the gate, and Maria sent Ezio to hire a carriage.  Federico took the driver's seat and set out as she instructed - the pace brisk but not so fast as to be grounds for suspicion.  Ezio looked over his shoulder at the city walls, wondering when - or even if - they would be able to go home.

*********

            Fear pounded heavily in Lorenzo's head as he yanked his sword out of the dead condottiero, only to turn barely in time to block another onslaught. It took all his strength to retain his grip on his blade as the large battle-axe came crashing down on it, the force of the blow reverberating all the way up his arm to shred his nerves with pain, vision swimming with the blood that flowed freely from his neck. He would not last long against this unending swarm of enemies with a wound like that.

"Help! I need help!" Lorenzo cried, looking around wildly. Where were his guards, his men? Had not a single one of his supporters the courage to stand by his side? He searched the panicked crowd frantically.

But his moment's inattention cost him dearly, as the next swing targeted his injured side. Lorenzo raised his sword in a stilted arc, unable to pivot smoothly because of his hand clamped to the bleeding at his neck, and the combination of imbalance coupled with his own weakened state caused the glancing blow to send his blade spinning several feet into the air, landing on the steps of the Basilica. Unarmed, he could only back up helplessly, pride the only thing keeping him on his feet in the face of impending death.

A streak of white came darting to his side, and as the figure made its way between Lorenzo's assailants to stand by him, fountains of crimson sprayed in his wake.  Giovanni Auditore, robed and cowled in bloodstained white, stood alone between Lorenzo and the murderous crowd.

"Giovanni! Thank God." Lorenzo's eyes fluttered in relief. If his assassin had abandoned him, he did not know whether he'd have the will to live. "The Pazzi scum, they've murdered Giuliano!" His fingers scrabbled at the stone steps for his sword, anger at his brother's death giving him strength.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out of this."  Giovanni darted forward, the short sword in his left hand and his hidden blade inflicting fatal wounds on a pair of assailants that had wandered too close.  "Stay back against the wall while I take out these men, Altezza."

Lorenzo retreated until his back was against the church wall, brandishing his sword in a defensive posture as he tried to stem the bleeding at his throat. He watched Giovanni tear through the pack of swordsmen silently, knowing better than to attempt to help in his wounded state. Instead, he scanned the rooftops for archers, his mind racing over the consequences of the Pazzi attack... and his next move, now that they had declared war on his city.

Giovanni fought fiercely, almost reckless in his speed, and when he was done the blood on his robes wasn't all that of his enemies.  "Come, Altezza, we have to get you to safety."

"Wait! My brother's body." Lorenzo took a step forward to where Giuliano lay in a pool of blood amongst his dead assailants, and swayed. "I can't just leave him - " The sky suddenly careened in his vision, spinning in a dizzying whirl, and as he threw his arm out for balance, he noticed with detached horror that his entire sleeve was dyed a thick, heavy crimson.

Giovanni swiftly moved to catch the younger man before he could fall.  "I'm sorry," he said gently as he steered Lorenzo away from the scene of the bloodbath.  "We must see to your wounds, urgently.  Your brother would want you to live, first and foremost."

Giovanni was right, of course, that small part of his brain not addled by pain or blood loss said. But anguish still tore at Lorenzo as he caught a glimpse of the murder he could not prevent. "Giuliano... please forgive me," he whispered hoarsely, squeezing his eyes closed. Not only had he failed to protect his little brother, but he was leaving the body out here like a wild animal. He said a silent prayer for Giuliano's soul, hoping it was enough to see his dear brother to heaven.

"My palazzo," Lorenzo gestured, moving in that direction even as he leaned heavily on Giovanni. "People I trust there... I need to rally them against the assault." Already, he could hear the streets filling with the sounds of battle.

"I'm sure that some good Samaritan will see to him," Giovanni murmured, leading the way northwards.  "It's too late to go back there, but I know of a safe place where we can get you treated."

Too late...? A chill bolted through his spine like lightning. "No," Lorenzo tore away with a herculean effort. "No, I need to get back. My family! Clarice!" Face whitening, he staggered down the opposite street, droplets of blood trailing in his wake.

Giovanni caught him around the waist before he could go two steps.  "They're safe!  It's all right, Altezza, I got your wife and children out.  But I couldn't hold the entire palazzo, it's overrun now.  We have to get somewhere safe."

"They took over my palazzo," Lorenzo repeated in disbelief. Suddenly, a great many pieces of a long-simmering puzzle fell into place. The encrypted letter, the incident in Roma, the mysterious 'illness' that had prevented the captain of his guards from accompanying him to the Duomo... it had all been building up to this. "How could I have been so blind?" he cursed. Sagging against Giovanni, Lorenzo allowed the assassin to lead them through the back alleyways, his mind numb with the dawning realization of just how deep this conspiracy ran.

Of all places, Giovanni led them to a whorehouse.  An upper-class one, to be sure, but a whorehouse.  "The owner can be trusted, and no one would think to look for you here.  But we cannot stay longer than to tend your wounds," Giovanni explained.

Lorenzo nodded wordlessly, following Giovanni inside. He recognized the La Rosa Colta, as he did all the important buildings in his city, a popular pleasure palace for high-ranking officials and members of the Signoria (and occasionally his own brother, despite his repeated admonishments, Lorenzo thought with a pang of grief), though he himself had never set foot inside. Vaguely, he recalled an incident involving the owner and a self-defense plea that Giovanni had won in court... with the tug of a few strings on the Medici payroll, of course. "Paola, was it?" Lorenzo asked, searching the surprisingly tasteful, decorated foyer. "That woman you defended."

Giovanni nodded as he led his way to a small upstairs room.  It, too, was tastefully decorated, and a cleverly concealed false back to the cabinet hid medical supplies and small arms.

Lorenzo sank gratefully onto the bed, his knees all but collapsing beneath him. A little shiver of pain ran through him as his nails slipped on his neck. Although he was no doctor, Lorenzo could tell from the lightheadedness and the extent of sticky red spilled down his side that the wound was bad, and he studiously avoided looking into the small dresser mirror for fear of what he might see.

Giovanni efficiently cleaned and tightly bandaged the wound, silently debating whether they could afford to remain there.  Lorenzo badly needed rest, but it would be difficult getting out of the city as it was.

Unaware of Giovanni's thoughts, Lorenzo was already planning his next move. "There's a garrison at the south of Santa Maria Novella. If any of my men survived the initial attack, they will gather there." He pushed himself to his feet, despite the renewed bout of dizziness it brought. "I need to contact my allies on the council, send messengers to my troops. The Pazzi cannot be allowed to take over the Palazzo della Signoria...!" He cut off abruptly as he coughed, the sudden strain of his voice causing blood to seep through the bandage.

Giovanni guided him back to the bed.  "Lie down, you need to rest.  I can ask Paola to bring us news, but you must not get up.  You have lost too much blood already, you will re-open your wounds - if you have not already done so."

"I can't. Not while my city is under attack." Despite his protests, Lorenzo did not have the strength to resist. "Every minute I spend here is another minute my enemies gain, and already they've done more damage than all the past attacks combined. Giovanni," he caught the assassin's wrist, fixing Giovanni with azure eyes sharpened by pain. "Please."

Giovanni's expression was regretful, his words gentle but unyielding. "I can understand you feel that way, but if you try to get up and move about now, you will die.  That will not serve Firenze."

"My injury is not severe," Lorenzo lied. For the first time, he noticed the blood slowly spreading on Giovanni's side. "And you – you are wounded as well."

Giovanni snorted.  "You can't fool me, I see more injuries in a month than you do in a decade.  You'll get some rest even if I have to tie you to the bed to see to it.  It's my own wound that's irrelevant."

A hint of the old annoyance twitched Lorenzo's brow, but he knew the assassin was right. He could barely walk straight in this state. "Then, send word for me to my men. Tell Venerio to gather my supporters from the nearby villages, Milano, anywhere my family has an alliance." His fingers tightened around the assassin's wrist. "Don't let the Pazzi bastardi take over our city," Lorenzo hissed, eyes burning feverishly. It was clear he would rather die than see the Firenze he knew fall to ruin. "Swear it to me, Giovanni!"

"I will have someone send word, and I will do what I can to protect the city.  So rest, Lorenzo," Giovanni soothed.

Not entirely reassured, but too exhausted to argue any longer, Lorenzo slowly sank back against the pillow with a soft groan. His grip lingered around Giovanni's wrist even as his eyes slid closed, reluctant to let go of what felt like his only lifeline.

Giovanni took Lorenzo's hand, squeezing comfortingly. "Don't worry.  I will keep you safe."

Lorenzo murmured something that might have been a thank you, before sleep claimed him.

********* 

It was difficult to tell how long it had been when Lorenzo next awoke.  He was feeling distinctly less weak, however, and a quick survey of the room showed that he was alone.

Lorenzo fished through his mind for his whereabouts, and immediately the events of the last few hours - Mass at the Duomo, the sudden attack, Pazzi thugs swarming out of nowhere - flooded his memory. His hand went automatically to his neck, touching the blood-stiffened bandage at his throat. Giovanni. Giovanni leading him to this brothel so he could recover from his wound. He'd sent the assassin to gather his men: he couldn't linger here!

Grabbing his sword from the table, Lorenzo quickly descended the steps into the foyer of the La Rosa Colta.

Standing in the foyer with the proprietress was none other than Giovanni himself.  The assassin looked up and frowned, breaking off his conversation to go over to Lorenzo.  "You should be resting still."

"I am rested well enough," Lorenzo brushed off the concern with a modicum of his usual command. "What news from my men? Did you find Venerio? I must send off messages speedily to my allies in the north." He cast about for a quill and vellum.

Giovanni rested a hand on his shoulder.  "Altezza, the news is....not good."

Lorenzo whirled sharply, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Altezza, for all intents and purposes, the city has fallen.  The Pazzi are hunting for you viciously.  We need to get out of the city and regroup before they find and kill you."

Lorenzo's face turned white as a sheet. "No. No, that's impossible." He shook his head. "I've only been out for half an hour, they could not have taken over the Signoria so quickly. Where is Uberto? They would not dare try to kill the Gonfaloniere." Of course, until today, Lorenzo thought they would never dare try to kill him, one of the Medici, the ruler of Firenze.

"It's been longer than that, Altezza," Giovanni's voice was gentle, knowing how hard this must be for the ruler.  "You slept for the better part of a day."

"Excuse me," Paola came over, looking grim.  "One of my girls just brought word.  The Gonfaloniere has been seen with the Pazzi - not a prisoner, but as one of them."

Giovanni stared.  That....that couldn't be right.  Not his childhood friend Uberto.

Lorenzo echoed the sentiment aloud. "Uberto... is in league with the Pazzi." The words were uttered slowly, still disbelieving. Though the rest of his faculties had yet to process the whirlwind of the past day, that part of his mind that was the shrewd politician already made the necessary calculations leading to the cruel conclusion. "Then so must be the rest of the Signoria, those that are left alive, at least." Suddenly, Lorenzo' face contorted with fury. "That traitorous rat! After all I have done for him, the strings I pulled to get him elected to the council, now he dares betray me?! The Pazzi could never offer him more than he attained under me!" 

It was perhaps telling that Lorenzo's outrage was focused purely on the political motivations, for Lorenzo had learned early on that friendship in Florentine politics extended only as far as the purse strings.

Giovanni ruthlessly shoved the pain of betrayal to the back of his mind.  "Enough," he said sharply - perhaps a bit more so than he'd intended.  "We need to focus on getting out of the city right now.  Paola, you said you had a tunnel built under the building for just such emergencies, si?"

"No." This time, Lorenzo's voice was cold, hard, anger tinting his eyes the color of frozen steel. "We stay. There is still time before they can rig a new election." He clenched his fists until his knuckles were bone white. "I'll not let the Pazzi run me out of my own city," he hissed, and though Lorenzo was not by nature a violent man, one would never know by the dark menace couched in those words.

"My strength lies here. Agnoli, Sassetti, Verucci, they all owe me their allegiance." Lorenzo waved his hand, brow furrowing as he recalled his political allies. "Antonio Rucellai is no friend of the Pazzi. Should they rise to power, he will surely lose his land holdings and stake in the church. We will use this underground passage of yours to get to him." It was a tenuous gamble at best, for if he was wrong and the Rucellai family had also defected, then his life would lie at the mercy of his enemies. But Lorenzo was willing to take that risk.

Giovanni shook his head. "Your allies are either imprisoned, dead, defected, or closely watched.  Altezza, there is no option left here in the city."

"Then, it is your task to find those still alive and get them to me," Lorenzo responded sharply.

"We don't have time.  I understand how difficult this must be for you, Altezza, but we need to get out of the city.  Now."  Giovanni's voice was still gentle, but it had steel underlying it

"And leave this - my brother dead, my family home in ruins, Firenze in the hands of the Pazzi - all without so much as a whimper? Never," Lorenzo spat. His voice shook with barely contained anger.

"I'm not suggesting that you simply roll over and let the Pazzi do as they like with your city.  The best way to strike them down - the best way to save your beloved Firenze - is to survive and escape and get help.  You have powerful allies in other cities, they will come to your aid."

Giovanni was right again, of course. With his men decimated and the Palazzo della Signoria overtaken, there was little he could do from within the city. He should send a messenger as speedily as possible to Milano, gain Galeazzo Sforza's aid before the Pazzi could entrench themselves.

Nevertheless, a part of him ached at parting from the city he grew up in, not knowing what lay ahead.

"If I leave now," Lorenzo said quietly, eyes fixed on the ground, "I may never see Firenze again." It was like this for his grandfather, exiled when the ruling family found the Medici too powerful to ignore.

"You will," Giovanni said quietly.  "I swear to you I will not let you become a stranger to your city."

There was a long silence, and then finally, Lorenzo nodded his wordless thanks. "Milano," he said with a small amount of his usual vigor. "Galeazzo Sforza owes me his life, if not the contents of his purse." Indeed, Lorenzo had been far too lenient about his bank's loans to the ruler of Milano, for the sake of political alliance.

Giovanni nodded.  He thought they should stop and rest someplace closer to the city - Monteriggioni, preferably - while Lorenzo's wounds healed.  But he recognized that simply agreeing to get Lorenzo to leave Firenze had been a massive concession on its own.  They could discuss their destination once they got out of the city.

"Since I cannot show my face, I leave the preparations to you." Rising, Lorenzo recovered some of his customary command. "I will draft letters requesting support from my other allies. See that they get to a trusted courier before we leave. I expect to make it to Milano in half a day."

"Half a day?  Even at a full gallop, Milano is nearly twelve hours away, and that would be stopping for fresh horses at least every hour.  Not to mention that such a demanding ride would doubtlessly reopen your wound." Giovanni protested.

"I will be fine." Lorenzo waved off the concern brusquely, though his complexion was still pale and his neck ached dully. "You were able to make the trip in about that time to stop the plot against Galeazzo. Can you do it again with the Pazzi prowling the road?"

"We cannot.  We'll be lucky to find horses close to the city at all, the stables are too closely watched to make it worth risking."

"Then, you have my permission to steal two from passerby." Absurdly, Lorenzo still saw himself as the de facto lawmaker of Firenze. "I will compensate them properly when this is over."

"And draw more attention to ourselves?  We must be _discreet_ , Altezza."

"Discretion is of little use if it means sacrificing speed," Lorenzo folded his arms crossly. "Or would you propose I _walk_ all the way to Milan?"

Giovanni sighed.  Clearly, this was a battle he was not going to win.  "Once we get outside the city, I will do my utmost.  But first we have to get safely beyond the walls."

*********

 Giovanni helped Lorenzo down into the tunnels that ran below the city.  They were wet, warm and stinking from the offal of the city above, and he prepared himself for a most displeased commentary from the younger man.

Lorenzo couldn't help wrinkling his nose in disgust at the filth around him, so far removed from the luxury he'd taken for granted his entire life. He picked his way gingerly through the least...putrid patches, grousing, "This is truly the _only_ passage you know of?" He looked like he was fast regretting his decision to leave the city.

"The only safe one," Giovanni told him, careful to keep his voice neutral.

"I beg to differ. There is enough offal here to suffocate a pig." Lorenzo buried his nose in his sleeve, attempting to breathe as little as possible.

Giovanni bit back a sigh.  "I assure you, it is unpleasant but not fatal."

"So long as one does not become lost down here," Lorenzo muttered, glancing at the narrow, dimly lit walls. He swore he could hear the squeak of rats around his feet.

"I know the way," Giovanni said patiently.  "And do not mind the rats, they are too timid to trouble us."

They were rats! Lorenzo flinched away from the sound, only to wind up in a muddy puddle. Scowling, he kicked his boots and asked, "Pray tell, what else is down here?"

"Not much else but what you'd expect," Giovanni said vaguely, not wanting to alarm him further.  The bats _probably_ wouldn't wake.

Lorenzo did not look particularly soothed by that vague comment, but decided he probably didn't want to know anyway. "When did you last use this tunnel?" he asked, hoping a change of subject would distract from the surroundings.

"A few months ago, I believe.  It's generally worth a couple hundred florins to hire someone to create a distraction while I slip out the front gate instead.  And before you say it, that would have been too risky this time."

"We should have taken a back gate. I've known you to appear at my palazzo in far faster time than any ordinary routes would allow." Lorenzo folded his arms. "And not stinking of the sewers." Good God, if his enemies saw him now, they wouldn't need swords or arrows to kill him - the embarrassment would be more than enough.

"Every route into and out of the city is being watched with extreme vigilance.  It _might_ be possible to get over the walls at night, but even if you could climb the way I can, your injury would hamper your movement too much."

Lorenzo's hand went reflexively to his neck, and he cursed the cowardly traitors who did not even have the courage to look him in the eye. "How much further before we are out of the city?" he asked.

"Not much further.  If we - " his words broke off as a huge cloud of bats, disturbed by their lanterns, swarmed about them in a frantic bid to escape.

Lorenzo yelped in surprise, for a second thinking they were under attack, and reached for the sword at his hip. He ducked back, stumbled over a stone, and only saved himself from a most unseemly fall into a pool of waste by grabbing onto the nearest ledge...which, as it turned out, was coated with unmentionable refuse anyway. Growling out a curse, he swiped his hand on his pants as he snapped at Giovanni, "Why didn't you warn me there were bats here?!"

Giovanni grimaced, thankful that Lorenzo hadn't managed to hurt himself or the assassin in his panic.  "They don't usually trouble passerby."

"Well, clearly they were all too happy to trouble us!" Sheathing his sword (and thankful that the darkness masked his flush of embarrassment), Lorenzo stomped forward. "Lead faster, I want out of these vermin-infested sewers as soon as possible."

"All right, but if I think it is tiring you, we will have to slow down.  And pay no mind if you feel something crunch beneath your boots, it's only the cockroaches."

Lorenzo gritted his teeth, as he felt said crunch beneath his feet. "Believe me, I'm not even breathing hard," he grated, speeding up his pace to match Giovanni's.

Giovanni dismissed the temptation to make a remark about how that was understandable, and led on.  It wasn't long before their first sweet breath of fresh air, and soon after that they were slipping into the hills outside of town under the cover of a new moon.

Having spent the last hour trudging through the bowels of his city, Lorenzo discovered a new appreciation for fresh air, as he inhaled deeply the cool night breeze. He peered around, searching for a landmark he recognized from his hunting trips through the forest.

"We need horses." Lorenzo stopped when they neared a stable.

Giovanni nodded.  "Wait here and stay silent," he murmured before slipping into the darkness.  After a tense wait, he reappeared leading two sturdily-built steeds; neither had saddle or bridle, only ropes tied to their halters as crude reins.

"Bareback?" Lorenzo frowned. Of course, he had ridden before without horse tack, but only short distances and only for pleasure. "The trip will be difficult enough without risk of injury." What he'd do for his own purebred steed...

"Tack would have taken too much time and would make too much noise.  I was thinking perhaps we could make for Monteriggioni - we can get fresh horses and tack there, clean up, re-dress your wound, and supply for the trip to Milano."

Lorenzo shook his head. "There isn't time. Every hour I spend on the road is another the Pazzi have to solidify their hold on my city. I must get to Milano as soon as possible, where my allies lie." Besides, the veiled message intoned, Monteriggioni occupied a precarious place in its relations with Firenze, due to recent land disputes. For all he trusted Giovanni, Lorenzo was acutely aware of where his assassin's brother placed his loyalties.

"A few hours either way won't matter, and you don't want to show up in Milano like this.  Besides, we can ride faster with fresh horses - these animals here are farm animals, not bred for speed or endurance.   And I know how things have been with Monteriggioni, but Mario wouldn't turn away a wounded friend of mine."  In fact, Mario might be glad of having Lorenzo in his debt when the next round of negotiations for the land disputes came around, though Giovanni didn't say that.

"I do not wish to make an unnecessary detour. The more time we spend traveling, the greater the chance that we will encounter Pazzi soldiers." Lorenzo folded his arms. "We can switch steeds and scavenge for supplies once we are far enough from the city to evade notice."

Giovanni bit back a growl.  Lorenzo really was going to be stubborn about this, he could see.  The assassin was a patient man - he had to be, by virtue of his profession - but Lorenzo's apparent determination to fight him at every turn was grating on him.  "Fine," he bit out, leading the way.

"You have no reason to be cross. You were the one who insisted that we keep as low a profile as possible."

"I'm not angry," Giovanni said tightly.  It was the same tone - the same words, even - that he used when his children accused him of being cross with them - and it was just as untrue now as then.

Lorenzo sighed, but diplomacy silenced what might have been a sardonic retort. This was a side of his assassin he had not seen. He mounted the horse and followed Giovanni at a close distance through the wooded path.

 *********

After a short while, Giovanni decided to try again. "Altezza, I understand your reasons for haste, but I do think that it would be wise to stop and rest at Monteriggioni. It will do us no good to fall asleep on the road."

"I am not falling asleep," Lorenzo protested. And it was true – though his wound throbbed, exhaustion ate at his limbs, and the grief of his brother's murder still haunted him, there was a feverish intensity burning in his eyes, one which would not allow him to rest so long as his beloved Firenze was under attack.

"Not yet. Even the strongest zeal can only keep a man on his feet for so long. Better to rest in safety."

"We will be safe once we reach the outskirts of Milano. Galeazzo's men will recognize me."

"Altezza, that would require being awake for practically forty-eight solid hours. That's not possible." Giovanni had done it on missions, and worse, but Lorenzo wasn't trained for that sort of thing.

"You have done it before." Lorenzo well knew his assassin's capabilities, and he decided stubbornly that he could match them. "Do not concern yourself with me." He urged his horse forward at a quicker pace.

"I've trained for it! Anyone else would fall off their horse mid-stride."

Lorenzo's eyes flashed with a bit of prideful anger. "Are you insinuating that I am a poor horseman, Giovanni?" he asked sharply.

I'm saying you're not an Assassin - which is what you would have to be in order to do what you're describing."

"I have ridden through the night before, and I will do it again for the safety of Firenze. Besides, a detour will only heighten our chances of running into the Pazzi murderers."

"Monteriggioni is hardly friendly to the Pazzi, and our enemies know that well. You may have ridden overnight before, but not when wounded and exhausted after a day such as this."

"It is precisely because of a day such as this that I must not stop to rest," Lorenzo said. "If you were the one wounded, and not I, we would not even be having this discussion." They would not be having this discussion under most other circumstances either, as Giovanni had ever been obedient to Lorenzo's orders in the halls of the Palazzo Medici.

"If I were the one wounded, I would remain by your side until the wound killed me - that is my place. It is _not_ my place to see you throw your own life away because you are too stubborn to listen to reason!"

"It is not your place to question my authority either," Lorenzo snapped, the combined pressure of the day causing his voice to break. "Do you understand the precarious nature of the politics here? The Pazzi know that my power lies in my bank. Once they have control of the Signoria, they will eviscerate all my possessions and call in foreign troops to defend against any attempts to retake the city. Galeazzo is only an ally for as long as I can convince him that I, not the Pazzi, am still ruler of Firenze." He whirled his steed around so he was glaring into his assassin's eyes. "Do you see that, Giovanni? My survival means _nothing_ if I cannot get to Milano first to strike a deal!"

"I understand that, but if you do not live to reach Milano, there will be no deal to strike."

"And if I do not reach Milano in time to strike a deal, I might as well be dead."

"I am trying to get you there, I am doing everything I can!"

"If you were doing everything you could," Lorenzo said coldly, "you would have been there to _prevent_ the assassination before my brother was murdered!"

Giovanni said nothing. What was there to say to that? 'I tried' would mean nothing to the man who had just lost a brother in such a brutal attack.

Spurred on by his fresh pain at the memories, Lorenzo continued, "I have given my own family for the safety of Firenze. Would that you'd do the same." There was clear accusation in his voice, for he knew Giovanni was late only because the assassin had helped his own family escape first.

Giovanni's temper broke with a near audible snap. "At least Giuliano could wield a sword in his own defense," he snapped. "Should I have just given up twelve year old Petruccio to your enemies' blades? Should I have let my wife and daughter swing from the gallows? For all I know, they're dead now - I entrusted their lives to my two untrained elder sons, so that I could come and help you."

"How very generous of you," Lorenzo's words dripped with sarcasm, "considering it was your job in the first place to see that none of this ever happened. And in case you had forgotten, my own wife and children are also hunted by my enemies - without the benefit of a brother's fortress to retreat to!"

"And who got them out?" Giovanni growled. "I saved your life, I saved your wife and children, I got you the hell out of that deathtrap of a city so that you could have some hope of retaking it - how much more was I supposed to do? I'm a man, not a goddamned army! I couldn't have stopped them any more than I could stop the tide from rising!"

"No, but you could have prevented it if you'd warned me of the conspiracy sooner," Lorenzo shot back.

"I cannot - " Giovanni stopped dead, whipping out his blades and turning to face the darkness. "Take cover," he hissed urgently, just as a swarm of armed men descended.

Lorenzo turned to gallop in the opposite direction, but he'd not gone far before he too faced several soldiers. "It's an ambush!" he cried as he drew his sword.

"Get out of here! I'll find you later!" Giovanni roared, already facing off against over half a dozen opponents.

Lorenzo spurred his horse down the path, blocking the swing of one of the men with his sword. However, his steed was unaccustomed to battle, and as he wrestled it around by the reigns, the other man's blade clipped its hindquarters, sending the animal into a fright. It whinnied loudly and galloped away in a wild direction, Lorenzo unable to do anything but cling to its mane.

Giovanni managed to put a couple of throwing knives into the two men that started after Lorenzo, but after that he could only see to his own defense. His foes seemed to think that if they took him out, then Lorenzo would be easy prey. Giovanni bared his teeth with a snarl. That much was true, but he wasn't going to make things so easy for them.

It took a good while before Lorenzo could finally get his steed under control, and by then, he had lost sight of Giovanni and the clash of battle behind him. He tugged on the reins, cursing the lack of saddle and bridle, as he tried to turn the horse around. Through the tree line, he could see two riders gaining in their chase, and he lifted his sword to meet them.

Giovanni was glad of his smoke bombs - it would have been a slim chance of surviving such massively poor odds without them. Even so, blood was dripping from more wounds by the time he'd slain their attackers. His horse - and the others - had run off, so he sighed wearily and headed after Lorenzo on foot, trusting his second sight to follow the faint blue trail.

Lorenzo considered himself lucky; the two men who'd chased him were, by the looks of their uniforms, merely low-level soldiers. The main force had stayed to face his assassin, probably thinking Lorenzo the easier target. Raising his blade (and remembering the long hours spent fencing with his brother), he sacrificed a light slash on his arm by the first soldier in order to feint high, bringing his sword down at the last minute in a low, wide sweep, which connected solidly with the man's waist. Blood spurted as the attacker's eyes went wide, and the man tumbled off to be trampled beneath his steed.

Seeing his companion fall, the other soldier approached more warily. His horse was accustomed to battle, unlike Lorenzo's, and the man used it to his advantage by circling the Duke and aiming for Lorenzo's steed, hoping to wear the other down. It was working, Lorenzo thought bitterly, as he took another cut to his forearm from a sloppy parry. Between struggling to keep his horse under control and watching for his attacker's moves, he felt the exhaustion of the day creep up on him. A glancing blow to his steed's side made the animal rear up in fright, throwing Lorenzo off - but not before he'd managed to dismount the other rider as well. A cry of pain fell from Lorenzo's lips, as he landed against his neck wound, the agony sending sparks flying in his vision.

He reacted on muscle instinct from his swordsmanship training, twisting and bringing up his blade, as he backed up from his attacker. The other man, seeing him weak, lunged forward, a move Lorenzo only barely managed to avoid - but the rash action had the soldier stumbling for a moment, during which Lorenzo pivoted and struck him with his sword. The attacker hit the ground with an 'oof', rolled, and in the split second when he was on his back, helpless, Lorenzo met his eyes before impaling his blade through the man's stomach.

Gasping for breath, Lorenzo stepped back and slid to the ground beside a tree, his heart pounding. He could feel blood trickling from the wound on his neck, reopened from the fall. Looking around, he realized his horse had fled and he was completely lost in the pitch dark woods.

Giovanni paused, leaning heavily against a tree. He'd lost a fair amount of blood and was losing more; he'd have to stop and bind his wounds. Cursing the lost time, he tore strips from his shirt, tying them hastily around his wounds. He could only imagine how he would look to Lorenzo, covered in blood from his attackers and his own injuries. He pressed on, knowing that Lorenzo was alone and helpless, and a few minutes later a stroke of luck found him. One of the battle-trained horses, unafraid of the smell of blood and smart enough to know that humans meant stables and feed, found him in the darkness. He gentled the animal for a minute before he swung painfully into the saddle. He couldn't take things too fast - horses' night vision was better than humans', but a gallop through the lightless forest would still be suicide. He made what haste he dared in following Lorenzo's trail.

Lorenzo debated whether to remain where he was, or attempt to navigate back to the road. Aside from the occasional hunting trip in the hills near Careggi, he had little woodlands experience, but in his injured state, sitting here left him vulnerable to any wayward patrol. And he had no idea how Giovanni had fared. Despite the confidence he placed in his assassin's skills, a little shiver of fear ran down Lorenzo's spine. If Giovanni had fallen, then his own chances of survival were very slim indeed...

Wiping his blade on the grass, he sheathed it at his hip and looked around, hoping that one of his enemy's horses was still in the vicinity.

Giovanni, meanwhile, was praying that Lorenzo had the sense to stay put, wherever he'd ended up. He didn't dare call out, but he remembered Lorenzo once commenting that he enjoyed the song of the nightingale, and he mimicked it twice. All he could do was to follow the trail, and hope that Lorenzo was close enough to hear his signal.

Lorenzo had just managed to calm one of the horses when in the distance, he heard the faint call of a nightingale. He frowned. It was the middle of the night - nightingales did not sing until dawn. Listening closer, he realized the sound wasn't quite right; it was a man mimicking the song of the bird rather than the bird itself. And who else would do that now except...Giovanni?

Leading the horse by the reigns, he followed the bird call, and when it stopped, he mimicked the song, hoping to signal his location to his assassin.

Giovanni sighed in relief as the call came back. Not only had Lorenzo heard, he's understood. Lorenzo might not stay where he was, but at least now he wouldn't be actively heading away from his assassin. He went as quickly as he could toward the answering signal. Surely Lorenzo was all right if he'd answered back....surely.

It seemed like hours went by before Lorenzo finally made out a white figure at the break in the tree line, and he hurried toward Giovanni, shoulders sagging in relief.

"Giovanni," he cried when they were within speaking distance, "Thank the saints you're alright." Never before had Lorenzo felt like embracing his assassin. But as he came closer, he could see that there was more red than white on Giovanni's robes, and his eyes widened with concern. "You're injured," he said, forgetting for the moment that his own wounds seeped blood.

"As are you, it seems," Giovanni replied, trying to seem like he was all right. He had never been more relieved to see Lorenzo. "How bad are your injuries?"

"Only a scratch compared to yours." Lorenzo reached forward to steady his assassin. "Hold still." He ran his fingers lightly over the hastily tied bandages, tucking in loose ends and tightening knots, as he caressed the bare skin. A twinge of guilt ran through him at the sight. This was not the first time Giovanni had been wounded carrying out Lorenzo's orders, but the assassin had never allowed Lorenzo to see him this way, always appearing in clean robes with a smooth, formal bow when he reported at the palazzo after a mission. "We need somewhere safe to shelter for the night."

It was telling that Giovanni let himself lean against Lorenzo a little - ordinarily, the assassin would never show such weakness. But his wounds were many, and his earlier injury had re-opened just as Lorenzo's had. "That we do," he agreed wearily. Despite his wounds and swiftly-growing exhaustion, however, he did not bring up Monteriggioni again.

Lorenzo did, however. "How far is Monteriggioni from here?" he asked, regretting his stubbornness in their earlier argument. "Can you guide us there before dawn?" He held the assassin gently, as he might a lover, letting part of his robe drape over the bare skin to protect Giovanni from the cold night breeze.

"Not far. I can get us there."   Giovanni moved to stand up, but staggered as he did so, only barely managing to catch himself against a tree.

"Slowly." Lorenzo caught Giovanni and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Lean on me." He helped his assassin to his horse, ignoring the pain of his own injuries.

...It was strange to Lorenzo, giving such aid. Growing up as the uncrowned ruler of Firenze, Lorenzo had not extended a hand like this to another in decades save for direct kin, he realized.

"I'm fine," Giovanni insisted, though he was beyond being able to hide the pain in his voice. "I just need a little rest and I'll be as good as new. You're hurt as well, you should take care of yourself." It was only through sheer stubbornness - and his mount's well-trained patience - that he managed to mount his horse.

Giovanni looked like he needed more than just a little rest - a doctor and at least a week's recovery was more like it - but Lorenzo said nothing, not wanting to make the assassin speak further when it was clear the other was in pain. "I can wait until we reach Monteriggioni. Lead on," he said quietly, steering his own horse to follow close to Giovanni. With the assassin so injured, he kept a keener watch out for any would-be attackers.

Giovanni didn't know how he managed to make it the rest of the way to Monteriggioni without falling out of the saddle, but somehow, he did. The condottieri at the gates recognized him and rushed to send word to Mario. Orders were passed to close the gates and double the patrols, and a group of men helped the injured travelers up to the villa.

Lorenzo breathed a sigh of relief once they'd passed the gates, glad that the rest of the trip had gone by without incident. He gazed around the rugged, walled fortress, its shuttered shops and narrow streets a far cry from his beautiful Firenze. The dingy buildings that greeted him looked like they were in serious need of repair. Was this really where Giovanni had grown up? Despite his push to take over the lands around Tuscany, it was Lorenzo's first time visiting Monteriggioni in person, and he instinctively stiffened at the approach of the rough-hewn condottieri, who under other circumstances might consider him an enemy.

The soldiers gave Lorenzo curious looks, but were too well-trained to question their superiors' decision to leave his fate to Mario. The elder Auditore came hastening down the steps of the villa to meet them, and when Giovanni saw him, he broke into a staggering run. "Mario! Maria and the children, are they - "

"They're fine," Mario caught his little brother before the wounded assassin could collapse. "They got here earlier today. Your boys did a fine job in protecting them. They'll want to see you, but we'd better get you patched up first. No point in scaring them."

Giovanni sagged against him. "Grazie a dio," he murmured weakly, Mario already snapping orders to rouse the town's doctor.

Feeling a bit out of place at the joyful reunion, Lorenzo approached slowly with a tilt of formality to his head, mustering what grace he could in his stained and bloodied robes. He waited until Giovanni had calmed before speaking. "Signor Auditore." It was a far more decorous title than he'd normally address a condottiero by, but Lorenzo decided that now was the time for diplomacy. "You have my deepest thanks for offering us shelter for this night."

"Signor Auditore was my father," Mario grunted. "I'm just Mario. And I haven't offered you anything yet."

"Mario," Giovanni hissed. "He's wounded!"

"And so are you - far worse than he. Don't think that I don't know whose fault that is," Mario fixed Lorenzo with a hard glare. "If your patronage gets my little brother killed, then I don't give a damn for your rank, I'll beat you within an inch of your life."

Giovanni hid his face in one hand, groaning. Mario never had been one for diplomacy.

Under any other circumstance, such fighting words would have had Lorenzo send the churlish speaker to the stocks. As it was, he'd been expecting less than a friendly welcome from the stubborn head of Monteriggioni, so did not need to bite his tongue to force a smile. "I assure you, I will do everything in my power to ensure Giovanni's safety, Signor." He said the last word a little more sharply, meeting Mario's glare with his own cool gaze. "But right now, that safety requires me to bring him here for medical treatment tonight. Surely you do not wish us to continue on without it." He left the implication of the 'us' in there, knowing Giovanni would not allow him to leave alone.

Mario glared and seemed to be preparing to have the two forcibly separated when Giovanni leaned up to hiss in his ear, "You'll have him in your debt at the next round of land negotiations with Firenze."

Mario gave him a sullen, but considering look, and after a moment, he nodded. "Very well, you also shall be granted hospitality," he grunted at Lorenzo, turning toward the villa and helping Giovanni along - half carrying him, really.

"I'm sorry, brother," Giovanni said quietly. "I did not see this coming. Uberto has betrayed us, I relied too much on his information."

Mario reached up with his free hand to ruffle the chestnut hair. "None of us saw it coming. The fault is not yours."

Lorenzo followed silently behind into the Auditore villa, where one of the servants led him to a small, separate room so a doctor could tend his wounds. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the two brothers, one large with shoulders like a bear, the other lean and angular as a hawk - yet still undeniably kin from the familiarity of their embrace - and felt a pang again for his own family...for Giuliano. Closing his eyes, he let out a deep, shuddering sigh as he sank onto the bed. He owed a debt now to Monteriggioni, one which he'd no doubt pay dearly in the future. However, right now Lorenzo was just glad to be safe.

*** 

Somehow Mario managed to stall Giovanni's family while the assassin was being treated and cleaned up, despite Maria's rather vehement insistence that it wouldn't bother her to see Giovanni as he was. The older Auditore was only too glad to step aside when the doctor came out and announced that Giovanni was ready to have visitors. They flooded into the door, and Maria only barely kept the children from piling on him to administer hugs that would have doubtlessly been painful.

Giovanni didn't mind, however - there was joy in his face as he beheld his family, alive and well. He gathered his children into his arms and kissed his wife unashamedly, saying over and over how glad he was that they were all safe.

"Father!" Claudia had been the first to run up and embrace Giovanni, beating her brothers to the punch. "You're safe." She clung to him fiercely despite his wounds. "We were so worried about you," she said once she pulled back, her face scrunched with worry. "Mother only told us we must flee the city immediately, and by then, the guards were already knocking at our door."

"They did not cause us harm, though," Ezio said, stepping in. "Federico and I made sure of that."

"My good boys, how proud I am of you! You did so well to keep the rest of the family safe. And you too, Claudia, and Petruccio, for being so brave. I know it must have been frightening for you." He ruffled his youngest's hair as Petruccio shyly stayed close to his side, and smiled at his older children.

Federico stood a little straighter. He couldn't remember the last time he had made his father proud. He'd forgotten how good it felt. "Uncle's been training me and Ezio in swordsmanship so that we can keep protecting everyone if anything else happens. He seems to know what this is all about, but he said you'd explain it."

"And I will," Giovanni promised. "I'll have a little time in the morning to talk about it. For now, I'd like a minute alone with your mother before I rest. I love you all very much."

After a round of gentle hugs and kisses and 'I love you too's, they filed reluctantly out. He turned to his wife, drawing her in for a kiss. "My lovely Maria, I am proud of you too, for facing this day without a flinch. I have never doubted that you would be able to stand up and do what was necessary to keep our family together even in the face of the gravest peril. Your courage and strength and intelligence take my breath away. Truly, there could not be a better wife in all the world."

"Flatterer, your tongue is as silvered as ever," Maria smiled as she kissed him back, and if her eyes were a little damp, neither of them mentioned it. "But I am proud of you too, for doing all you could in the face of this. I know it couldn't have been easy to get il Magnifico here safely, or to leave so quickly after warning us."

Giovanni touched her cheek softly. "Thank you. It is good to hear you say that, since I am not feeling too proud of myself right now."

"It was not your fault, beloved. You know that."

"I know. But we lost the city, and Lorenzo lost his brother. We still don't know if his wife and children are safe. And I never saw any of this coming."

"You cannot be everywhere at once, caro, and even you cannot fight off an entire army. You have salvaged what you could from this mess, and I am sure that Lorenzo will retake the city in the end. This is a setback, love, nothing more."

"La mia bella," Giovanni smiled. "Whatever would I do without you?"

"Probably run around still sleeping with anyone that has a pair of breasts," she teased gently.

"Ahh, but yours are so much finer," he grinned, tweaking one.

Maria managed to find an undamaged part of him to smack. "Basta, you old goat." She sobered then. "You intend to leave in the morning, don't you?"

"That obvious, am I?" he asked ruefully.

"The bit about having a little time in the morning was a giveaway. You need at least a week of bed rest, you know that, right?"

"I know. But Lorenzo needs to reach his allies in Milano before the Pazzi can become too entrenched, and I'm his only chance of getting there alive."

Maria ran a hand through his hair. "I can see there's no changing your mind. But be careful, si? Neither of you will be ready for another fight any time soon. And don't you dare forget that we'll be waiting for your safe return."

"I never could," Giovanni promised, and kissed her. "I swear I'll do everything I can to come home to you safely."

 ***

Mario waited until the joyful reunion was over and Giovanni had finally settled back to rest before approaching his little brother. "Your sons did well to make it here unharmed," he acknowledged, as he pulled up a chair to the bed. "I intercepted them halfway down from Monteriggioni, fending off a few Pazzi foot soldiers. Your Ezio put up a brave fight against the militia." However, no compliment on swordplay by Mario was ever without criticism. "But then more approached, led by a tin can brute. It was fortunate I got there with my squad of men in time to dispatch them." He folded his arms, adding somewhat reproachfully, "You should have started their training earlier. Next time, we may not be so lucky."

"Si, si, I should have trained them earlier, you were right and I was wrong. Happy now?" Giovanni gave him a sour look.

"Just so long as you continue their training after they've left." Sighing, Mario gave his brother an affectionate pat on the shoulder. After a day like this, he couldn't really be upset at Giovanni. "I'm only looking out for you, little brother. This will not be the last time the Templars target your family to get to you."

"I know," Giovanni said quietly. "I suppose it was naive of me to think that they wouldn't target women and children. But no father wants to see his children become cold-blooded murderers. I'll have to explain things now, and I don't doubt that they'll want to take up the robes as well. In a way I'm proud, but I never wanted to see this day."

Mario bit his tongue around his proud words defending the Brotherhood. They'd had this argument again and again, and now was not the time to pursue it. "I look forward to welcoming them to the Brotherhood," he said simply. Mario pressed a hand to Giovanni's bandaged chest. "But first, you need to rest. I see that the Medici princeling," he said with a sarcastic twist of his lips, "has been treating you roughly." He checked over the various wounds and scars, brow furrowing. "I'll gather some of my men to escort Lorenzo tomorrow morning. The roads should be clear once he gets to the outskirts of Milano."

"I know you have no love for Lorenzo, but even you can't argue that letting the Pazzi gain and keep control of Firenze is preferable. Don't worry about your troops, the two of us will have better luck cutting across country. The fewer we are, the better our chances of making it through undetected."

Mario frowned. "You can't be serious about making the trek alone, in your state." He ignored the fact that, when the situation was reversed (as was often the case), he vehemently fought any attempts by Giovanni to keep him under bed rest so long as he was capable of walking.

"I've gone on missions in worse condition, and I know you have too. You've done a good job of patching me up, I'll be fine. And anyway, I don't intend to fight if I can avoid it; I'll be relying on stealth for this one."

"That's well and fine on your own," Mario replied, though it was clear from his tone that he disapproved even in that case, "but you will have to defend Lorenzo as well, and I doubt he knows how to move the way we move in the shadows."

"Naturally not, but if we can keep away from the roads, we may be able to simply avoid attention."

"That is still risky. If you are spotted by a wayward patrol, then things will not go well with both of you injured." Seeing his brother was stubbornly refusing to listen, Mario tried for a compromise. "At least take a few of my condotierri with you. If nothing else, they can provide a distraction while you escape."

"All right, but only a few. Too large a group will be easily spotted," Giovanni conceded.

"Good." Mario sighed. "I'd ride with you myself, but as things stand, I've no doubt the Templars will try to press their advantage, and I need to be here to protect Monteriggioni." He gave his brother an apologetic look.

"I wouldn't want you anywhere else," Giovanni rested a hand on his shoulder. "I know you would never let those dogs hurt my family or take our home."

Mario gave his brother a powerful hug. "They'll run crying for their mothers at the mere mention of the Auditore name," he swore. Pulling back, he wagged a finger at Giovanni. "And you." He frowned seriously. "You better come back, or else. I wasn't joking when I said I'd beat that Fiorentino princeling black and blue."

Giovanni wheezed a little at the bear hug, but managed a smile all the same. "I know you weren't. You know I'll do my best to get back in one piece - I have too much waiting for me here not to. Can you keep training the boys while I'm gone?"

"Hah! Can I now. Even if they refused, I'd drag them to the training ring every day." Mario puffed up his chest with pride - nothing gave him more pleasure than instructing new recruits in the fine art of swordplay, especially when they happened to be his nephews and future assassins.

He got up from his chair. "If you're leaving tomorrow morning, then you'd best get some rest. I'll go ready your horses and supplies."

Giovanni chuckled. "I almost feel sorry for the boys. And Mario - thank you."

 ***  

Despite his exhaustion and pain, Giovanni managed a smile when Lorenzo came in moments after Mario had left. "Altezza, glad to see you're feeling better. Still, shouldn't you be resting?"

"I could say the same to you." Lorenzo looked slightly misplaced in the oversized, gray robe that he'd been afforded after a much-needed bath - some of Mario's old clothes, no doubt the gruff condottiero's petty form of revenge. But it was his bearing that told of his true anguish. Approaching the bed without any of his usual airs, he sank into the chair beside Giovanni and looked the assassin in the eyes. "I am sorry," Lorenzo said quietly. He'd given apologies before to assuage political egos, but this was genuine, and the Principe di Firenze had not needed to give genuine apologies since his father died. "When I said those words about your family - they were in anger and grief for the loss of my brother and my city. I would never ask you to sacrifice them for me."

Giovanni reached over to rest his hand on Lorenzo's shoulder. "It is nothing that needs an apology. Grief can make a man say heedless things, and no one has more cause to grieve than you. For my part, I am truly, deeply sorry that I was not in time to save Giuliano. I know how much he meant to you."

Lorenzo's jaw hardened at the memory. "That bastard Francesco didn't even give him a chance. Looked him straight in the eye and stabbed him, when my brother lay helpless, begging for his life on the ground." His voice shook as he relived those last moments on the steps of the Basilica. "And I...I could do nothing." Guilt contorted Lorenzo's face, as he fixed his gaze on the linen sheets. For all his purported power, he had failed to save one most dear to him. Laying his own hand over Giovanni's (for it felt as his only comfort in the world), Lorenzo continued, "You...you have a brother. You must - " He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "You know how it feels, wanting, _needing_ to protect them."

As the eldest child, Lorenzo had been always pulling his carefree little brother out of trouble, and that implicit responsibility had followed Lorenzo to adulthood.

Giovanni dared to pull Lorenzo into a gentle embrace. "I know," he murmured softly. "Those who did this will be brought to justice. I swear it."

At first, Lorenzo stiffened at the unfamiliar gesture, but then all the pain and fear and grief of the past day hit him like a mace, and he sank slowly into the steady arms, burying his head against Giovanni's shoulder. His chest heaved raggedly once, then twice, and the knot of emotion that had tangled his heart all at once unfurled in a hot flood. "It should have been me who took the blade," Lorenzo whispered, almost inaudibly. A small part of him recoiled in horror at the wetness that brimmed over his eyes, dampening the bandages. "Giuliano never did wish to get involved in these bloody politics." Unwilling to let his assassin see him weeping weakly like a woman, Lorenzo remained pressed against Giovanni's neck, his fingers curled tight on his leg.

Giovanni rubbed Lorenzo's back soothingly, holding him close and letting him grieve. He said nothing of the tears, allowing Lorenzo to believe - or at least pretend - that they had gone unnoticed.

Lorenzo wept for his brother, he wept for his family, but most of all he wept for his beautiful Firenze. And only when he was sure the tears had all dried, did he finally draw back and lift his reddened eyes, faintly embarrassed. He'd never let anyone see him this way.

"I..." Lorenzo cleared his throat. "I should let you rest. We must leave early tomorrow morning."

"Indeed. Sleep well, Altezza, and do not hesitate to call on me if there is anything," Giovanni smiled gently, even though it was clear he was at the utter end of exhaustion.

 *********

 Not far from Milano, their enemies found them.

Giovanni cursed as the horsemen thundered down upon them. The open field offered nowhere to shelter or hide, and the riders’ bows said that running would be futile. With Mario's condottiere left behind to misdirect pursuit, the two of them were so badly outnumbered that even without their previous injuries, Giovanni would not have taken odds on their survival. "I'll throw a smoke bomb and take down as many as I can - you slip away while they're fighting me. I can give you enough time to make it in sight of the city walls. It's been an honor to hunt for you - give my love to my family."

"No, Giovanni!" Lorenzo hissed, refusing to let his assassin throw his life away when they were so close. "We can still make it." Shooting a quick glance behind him, he spurred his horse on even as their pursuers gained. "A guard outpost, just over the hill. If we can pull ahead for only a few more yards..." He squashed the cold, calculating voice of battlefield reason that told him if Giovanni created a distraction, then he was all but guaranteed to make it to safety, whereas fleeing as they did together, those odds thinned considerably.

"Go!" Giovanni growled, smacking Lorenzo's mount on the rump with the flat of his blade. The startled animal squealed and leaped forward even faster, leaving Giovanni behind as the assassin pulled his own horse around. Sword in one hand, smoke bomb in the other, he rode right into the teeth of the charge - which suddenly broke and scattered, moments away from him, as a hailstorm of arrows decimated the oncoming soldiers.

Lorenzo was the first to catch sight of the gold and blue colors of the Sforza, fluttering proudly atop the standard, as he dragged his steed around. "Galeazzo Maria Sforza." With his ornate, polished armor and noble bearing, the man who led the tight formation of soldiers was unmistakably the Duke of Milano. Wiping a hand over his brow, Lorenzo heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Am I ever glad to see you."

"Aren't you always?" Galeazzo smirked. "I've heard, my dear Lorenzo, that you've gotten yourself into quite a pickle. This certainly seems to bear it out. Is that your bodyguard?" he asked as Giovanni rode up, dark eyes raking brazenly down the assassin's lean form. "He's very...devoted."

"In a manner of speaking." Lorenzo smiled tiredly. Trust Galeazzo to find the (inappropriate) humor in any situation. "After the... unfortunate falling out with the Pazzi," he said without a trace of irony, "I thought it best to travel light. L'Aquila," he gestured at Giovanni, "was one of the few of my men who knew these back roads well enough to get me here quickly and in one piece."

Galeazzo laughed. "Unfortunate falling out, eh? You always did have a talent for understatement, Lorenzo. And an eye for the finer things in life," he smirked at Giovanni, who pointedly ignored him.

"Never quite as much as you, Galeazzo," Lorenzo responded wryly. He did not miss the rather blatant look of interest that the Duke gave his assassin. "We'd best continue our discussion inside," he said, as he tugged on the reigns of his horse. "After the last few days, I am finished with people trying to make me into a pincushion."

Galeazzo led the way back into the city. "Those craven Pazzi won't dare attack openly here," he said disdainfully. "They might send an assassin or two, but I’m sure you have little to worry about from that direction," he glanced back at Giovanni. "So tell me, what does one do to earn such loyalty that a fierce eagle will lay down his life for you?"

"No more than what one does to earn the loyalty of any of one’s men," Lorenzo gave a non-answer, trying to steer the conversation to more substantive topics. "I am concerned the Pazzi will call on foreign troops to bolster their defenses, if I do not act soon to drive them from Firenze. For now, their hold on the governing council must still be tenuous, and with the right support," he gave Galeazzo a meaningful glance, clearly implying military support, "they should be easy to unseat."

"I know you're trying to change the subject away from that entirely unsubstantial answer, but I'll let it go since you've had a rough day, poor dear," Galeazzo grinned. "So, you want me to lend you some of my troops, hm? Well, that does put me in an excellent bargaining position, doesn't it?" he gave a significant glance at Giovanni, who glared back.

"You and I both know that you are no friend to the Pazzi," Lorenzo admonished, slipping familiarly into the political dickering. He frowned, though, when he caught Galeazzo staring at Giovanni again. "They have long held alliances with your enemies up north, and last I heard, the Duke of Savoy has been itching for an opportunity to avenge that embarrassment you caused him earlier." A rather entertaining adventure, in fact - returning from a successful campaign in France, Galeazzo had traveled through Savoy under a false name, knowing his family enemy was after him, and even managed to seduce one of the Duke's cousins...right beneath Ludovico's nose, as he told it. "Which, if I recall," Lorenzo tapped his fingers on the reigns, "was funded in part by my bank."

Galeazzo rolled his eyes. "Ah, Ludovico always was a sourpuss. I swear that he's only mad because I declined to share my bed with him when we were fifteen. One of the few people I ever turned down, in fact. If I'd known he was going to get so petty about being left out, I might have put up with his terrible breath and greasy skin for one night. Oh, and his chubbiness - he was overweight even back then. Almost as unattractive as our dear Pazzi friends. And how did I know that you were going to bring up the money?" He sighed melodramatically, then gave Lorenzo his most charming grin. "Don't they say that between dear friends, there can be no debt?"

"None that can't be repaid." Lorenzo was not fooled by the charming smile. The balance sheets for Galeazzo were written in only one color - red - and often involved creative purchases that caused even the ruler of Firenze to raise an eyebrow. "The cost is not the issue. My finances are safe - it'll take a better banker than doddering old Jacopo to follow the paper trail. Just don't expect another ruby for your mistress." Lorenzo wagged a finger. "That jewel was enough to buy an entire palace of girls." Or boys, he added silently. He did not forget the exquisitely crafted viol that Galeazzo had wheedled out of him, for some handsome young musician who happened to catch the Duke's eye.

"Ahh, but what's the fun in ruling a city if you can't indulge yourself every now and then?" Galeazzo grinned, glancing again at Giovanni. In truth, he had every intention of helping Lorenzo - he was not nearly as careless of politics as he liked other people to think he was. But the opportunity to string along the far-too-serious il Magnifico for a little bit was just too good to pass up.

"Oh?" Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "And who is the fortunate lady this time?" he asked all too knowingly, hoping that it wasn't an ambassador's wife like last time. God in Heaven, that cost quite a fortune to hush up.

"Oh, you know, I've been...dabbling here and there. Waiting for someone to really catch my eye," Galeazzo smirked.

"So I shouldn't be concerned about any untoward disruptions during my stay," Lorenzo remarked lightly, though there was a stiffness in his words as he looked back at Giovanni.

Galeazzo laughed. "Oh really, Lorenzo, you should know me better than that. But is something troubling you? You keep looking back at your bird of prey with quite charming concern."

"It's nothing," Lorenzo said, whipping his gaze back to the road perhaps a little too quickly. "I am merely concerned for - " he almost said 'his' before catching himself " - our injuries. We've had a dangerous journey, and I would like to get back to your castello quickly so that we can rest and start talking about business."

Galeazzo snickered as Lorenzo abruptly faced forward. "Never fear, my dear Lorenzo. I will see to it that the doctor has a look at you both immediately. I shall even oversee the care of your precious eagle myself." After a significant pause, he added, "And your own, naturally."

"That is most gracious of you." Lorenzo gave him a practiced diplomat's smile. Drawing his steed to a halt at the castello gates, he dismounted and handed the reins to a stable boy. "I am in your debt for the aid you've provided," he said as they entered the courtyard, where servants stood waiting for orders from the Duke. "But, Galeazzo." And now Lorenzo turned, giving his friend a pointed look. "I do expect you to treat my guest with the same courtesy as you would me." His eyes swerved meaningfully to Giovanni. He was likely just overreacting to Galeazzo's teasing - the man did enjoy getting under his skin, especially when it came to Lorenzo's possessions - however...he wanted to ensure that, for all Giovanni had been through, his assassin would get the rest he deserved.

Galeazzo grinned, and it was a lazily self-satisfied expression. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, my dear Lorenzo," he drawled.

*********

Giovanni looked up as Galeazzo entered the room, and his eyes narrowed. It was blatantly obvious what this man desired, and Giovanni wanted no part of it.

Galeazzo twirled a silver chain around his finger as he entered the room, dark eyes raking over Giovanni as he smirked. The lean form, the fluid muscles, the glare that smoldered dangerously. So his dear friend Lorenzo had caught himself a prize eagle, eh? A travesty that he didn't share. "L'Aquila, was it?" He swaggered over to the bed, chin tipped up arrogantly. "How long has Lorenzo kept you by that name?"

Giovanni reminded himself forcefully that Lorenzo needed this man's help, as unabashed as his advances were. "Forgive my reticence, your lordship, but my work requires the utmost discretion and secrecy. I am not at liberty to discuss the terms of the agreement between myself and il Magnifico."

"Ah..." Galeazzo's smirk widened. Lorenzo never did like to share. "He must trust you a great deal, then." Undeterred, the Duke switched to what was usually the surefire way to get a man in bed - compliments. "I can tell you've great prowess with a blade." His gaze wandered slowly down Giovanni's naked chest, lingering over the web of jagged scars that traced the flat, taut muscles of the abdomen. "Charging a company of horsemen alone back there, that takes both courage and skill. Tell me, what did my dear friend Lorenzo do to earn the devotion of a man like yourself?"

"He was a man worth following," Giovanni said flatly. The words ‘unlike you’ followed after unspoken. Galeazzo's gaze made him want to pull the sheet up over himself, but he knew better than to show any discomfort.

"Indeed, he is lucky to have you by his side. True loyalty is so rare nowadays." Galeazzo slid his fingers lightly over the sheets, as his eyes drew lower for a fraction of a second.

Giovanni stilled tensely, the lack of motion akin to a predator's ambush. "I can’t imagine why you have such trouble finding loyal men," he ground out.

"Oh, it's hardly that. The Duchy of Milano has no end of supporters." Galeazzo said it as if such unquestioning loyalty were his birthright - which, in some respect, it was. "But one with your abilities..." His fingers continued their course, until they abruptly withdrew mere inches from Giovanni's thigh. "...does not come around often." His eyes gleamed knowingly. Though he rarely marched into battle now as the Duke, Galeazzo was a veteran of the French war against Burgundy, and he had not missed the smoke bomb that Giovanni tucked away in his pouch. Only men in a particular service carried such covert weaponry.

Giovanni glared daggers at the almost-touch, his hand instinctively flexing in preparation to release the hidden blade. Though he'd removed most of his clothes to allow for treatment, he'd refused to be parted from the bracer.

Galeazzo grinned at the tension. If anything, the challenge in L'Aquila's eyes made the eventual conquest - and he did believe in such a conquest, for no one turned down the Duke of Milano - even more satisfying. "Where did you learn to wield such weaponry?"

"I believe I already told you that the particulars of my work are not for discussion," Giovanni said coldly.

"Surely you did not always work for Lorenzo." Switching tactics, Galeazzo decided to show off some of his own accomplishments. "A man of your skills must be a veteran of many battles. What wars have you fought in?" He puffed up his chest with obvious pride, as he said, "I myself led the successful campaign against Burgundy, as I'm sure you know."

"So I have heard." Giovanni sounded distinctly unimpressed. He did not volunteer any information about himself.

"And I do spar regularly, as politics permit." Galeazzo gestured expansively. "You should come to the ring, when you've healed from your injuries. I'm sure I can talk Lorenzo into giving you some time off." It was clear that Galeazzo merely wanted to see Giovanni in action again, preferably bare-chested and glistening with sweat.

"Lorenzo is eager to get back to Firenze, as I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. Once we come to an agreement, all of this will be resolved quickly." Galeazzo waved it off. "But," and now he paused thoughtfully, as he considered his bargaining chip, " _you_ are free to stay in Milano, while you recover from your injuries." He leaned in over Giovanni as he smirked, and only the appearance of a servant at the door prevented what seemed to be an inevitable clash.

"Your Grace." The man bowed stiffly. "Your presence is needed in the antechamber."

Galeazzo sighed irritably, as he withdrew. "I will be there shortly," he snapped. At the door, he stopped and turned to catch one last glance of Giovanni's bare chest, adding mildly, "I expect you to be at dinner this evening." It was more command than invitation. "As Lorenzo's dear guest, of course."

*********

"That all sounds quite agreeable," Galeazzo smiled lazily, "but for one little thing. I'd like to borrow some manpower myself."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "Given the circumstances, that will be difficult considering I have none."

"You have one," Galeazzo smirked, knowing that Lorenzo was just stalling. "And if I am to lend you an entire army, then letting me borrow one man in return is not so outrageous a request, surely."

Lorenzo went very still. "And what exactly do you need him for, that your own highly trained guardsmen could not accomplish equally well?" he asked, careful to couch his question in a compliment.

"Oh come now, surely you already know that the man is worth his weight in gold, far more than any ordinary guardsman. Guardsmen who would charge into certain death to give their master a chance to escape don't grow on trees, you know."

   "Perhaps you're looking up the wrong ones, then." Lorenzo sighed testily. This was an unexpected and unwelcome snag in the otherwise smooth negotiations. "If you've a specific mission in mind, then I'm sure we can reach an agreement, but L'Aquila is not a hired blade. I cannot simply order him into your service."

"Oh, he doesn't obey even you blindly? How proud and fierce. He is well-named indeed. Still, I am sure that you can see the value of my cooperation. I would hate to think that we might be unable to reach an agreement because of such a little thing."

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed at the veiled threat. "I did not think the services of one man would be so important as to cloud your political judgment, Galeazzo. You and I both know that Milano is better off with the Pazzi out of Firenze, and I believe I have been quite generous about extending my financial backing to your troops."

Galeazzo sulked. "You are far too stingy about sharing your nice things. Though I have to wonder," he gave Lorenzo a shrewd look, "why you object so strenuously."

"That is because you have a tendency to break them." Lorenzo flushed when he realized, too late, how the words must sound.

Galeazzo smirked. "Worried about your pet, hm?"

"He is not my pet." Lorenzo folded his arms. "Or anyone else's," he added, feeling suddenly very defensive of Giovanni's honor.

"My, you are protective of him. A lover, perhaps? What would Clarice think?"

Something about that idea made Lorenzo's flush deepen. "Leave my wife out of this," he snapped hotly. "In case you have forgotten, sodomy is a crime." Of course, such petty things as laws never did deter Galeazzo.

"As if you do not make your own law in Firenze. That handsome blush betrays you." Galeazzo grinned suddenly. "If you do not wish to lend me your pet, perhaps you'd like to warm my bed instead?"

Lorenzo had to resist mightily the urge to slap Galeazzo across the face. "I am quite certain you remember how poorly that worked out last time," he said sardonically, rearranging his face into an impassive expression once more. Really, he should know better by now than to let Galeazzo get a rise out of him. "And who won," he added just a touch smugly.

"Winning and losing are such subjective terms," Galeazzo grinned. "I learned quite a bit. I keep telling you that you should give me another try."

Lorenzo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is there nothing else you can think of at a time like this?"

"We've already come to an agreement, so why not?"

"I need to send off letters to my bank managers to withdraw the funds you require." Lorenzo did not deign to give that request an answer. Galeazzo's mistress must be out of town - without Lucrezia around to keep his appetite satisfied, the Duke was always a handful. "We will talk more after dinner." Rising, he gave Galeazzo a warning look before turning toward the door. "Remember what I said about courtesy to guests."

*********

As requested, Giovanni had attended dinner but retired early, citing his wound as excuse. After a wary sniff, he dutifully drank the medicine given to him by Galeazzo's doctor, which he was assured would help with the increasing pain from his leg. He lay back and began sorting through the day's events in his mind, trying to calculate the odds of Galeazzo assisting them. Before long, however, he became aware that his thoughts were increasingly slow and vague, his limbs growing slack as sensations of warmth, contentment, and relaxation clouded his mind. Opium, he recognized distantly. It had been a long time since he'd taken any, preferring to keep himself sharply alert, and he was hazily aware that he should probably be anxious and unhappy about the heavy dose. At the moment, however, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

It was getting late in the evening, and Galeazzo was restless. He'd successfully pressured Lorenzo into many concessions today, a nice contribution of coin and several political appointments, but the one item that he wanted most was, so to speak, off the table due to his friend's extreme possessiveness. Galeazzo sighed. Really, so much for a mere bodyguard? Admittedly, a handsome one, but the least Lorenzo could do was _share_. No matter. There were many other ways into a man's breeches, and experience had taught the Duke well-nigh all of them.

Entering the room without so much as a knock (for the Duke of Milan never knocked in his own home), Galeazzo flashed the assassin a brilliant grin. "Ah, L'Aquila." He did not hide his pleasure at seeing Giovanni stripped to the waist. "My doctor tells me you are recovering quite rapidly. If there is anything my castello can provide, you need only ask." It was, for Galeazzo, an exceedingly gracious gesture.

Giovanni blinked.  Galeazzo.  Why was Galeazzo there?  "Thank you," he managed.  "That is very kind."

Galeazzo's grin widened. Ah, perhaps the proud eagle had had a change of heart. "You know, Lorenzo speaks quite highly of your talents. I could use a man like you in Milan," he said slyly as he sauntered over to the bed, eyes gliding down Giovanni's muscled chest to the thin pants that hugged his thighs. "With the right patronage, opportunities abound in my court... and, of course, you'd be aiding your master," he added, manipulating the man's loyalty to his advantage.

Giovanni missed the subtleties of the comment entirely, but he managed to fix on the last few words. "If I do what you want, you'll help us?"

The Duke laughed softly. "Should your services be... satisfactory, I am more than willing to provide you anything." Boldly, he caressed Giovanni's cheek.

Giovanni's eyes slipped closed. "Anything?" he murmured. Dimly, he had the feeling that there was some reason why he shouldn't be doing this. But he couldn't remember what it was, and the soft touch didn't feel bad.

Oh my, Galeazzo had not expected Lorenzo's bodyguard to be so devoted, the man would submit to even this for his master. Never one to give up a golden opportunity, he leaned in and smirked. "Anything you like, il mio bel aquila," he whispered as he claimed Giovanni's lips in a domineering kiss.

Giovanni made a soft sound, parting his lips pliantly as his mouth was invaded. Was he not supposed to want this? Was there some reason he had agreed anyway? The reasons slipped away from his hazy mind, and he found himself instinctively relaxing as Galeazzo commanded the kiss. It was so much easier not to think.

Galeazzo thrust his tongue inside Giovanni's mouth, nipping hungrily at the wet, full lips as he wound his fingers through the other's chestnut hair. His other hand roamed freely up Giovanni's thigh, kneading the thick cords of muscles there.

Giovanni wondered distantly whether it was a bad thing that he was starting to get hard. There were so many thoughts clamoring in the back of his head, but he couldn't make anything out past the cloud of warm relaxation drugging him. He didn't resist Galeazzo's touch, docilely allowing the younger man to take control of the situation

Galeazzo smirked when he felt the other man's hardness through his breeches. Dragging Giovanni's head back, he nipped and sucked at the exposed throat until the skin bloomed a dusky red, whispering huskily, "Tell me, how does Lorenzo like you? Is he as demanding as I recall?" His eyes narrowed mirthfully. "Or has he become more magnanimous with age?"

Giovanni shivered a little at the feel of Galeazzo's mouth on his neck, wet and hungry and demanding - the assassin's neck was damnably sensitive and he was in no condition to pretend it wasn't. "Don't know what you mean," he mumbled in confusion.

Galeazzo chuckled. "It matters not." He slid his hand inside Giovanni's breeches, running his thumb along the stiff member. "Either way, I am far more skilled."

Giovanni moaned softly, too far gone not to want this.

Grinning, Galeazzo tugged Giovanni's pants the rest of the way off, pushing the other man down on the bed and straddling the assassin's thighs. He began stroking Giovanni in a slow, lazy rhythm, punctuating each stroke with a sharp nip at the other man's collarbone.

Giovanni panted dazedly, his hips instinctively arching upwards in mindless need.

"Good, eh? Better than he could ever give you." Galeazzo chuckled noiselessly, as he trailed his fingers down to give Giovanni's balls a light squeeze. He caught the other's mouth with his own in anticipation of the gasp of pleasure.

Lost in a tangle of pleasure, drugs, and exhaustion, Giovanni could only whimper his want. Galeazzo's words didn't even register in his numbed mind.

"You need not return to his bed," Galeazzo whispered against the other's jaw. "I can afford far more luxuries befitting a proud eagle." At the other's whimper, his eyes slid closed briefly as he felt his own need throbbing achingly. Quickly, Galeazzo unbuckled his pants and, shifting off Giovanni, pulled the assassin's head into his lap. "All I ask," he murmured, pressing two fingers between the wet lips to caress the silken tongue, while firmly turning Giovanni by the jaw to his cock, "is a little something in return."

Giovanni didn't think to object - he was long since past that point. He moved as directed, opening his mouth without protest to accept what was given to him.

"Ahhh..." Galeazzo let out a deep sigh of pleasure, as that wetness wrapped around his length. He threaded his fingers in Giovanni's chestnut hair, pushing down to urge that throat to accept more.

Giovanni made a soft sound, automatically relaxing his throat. He gazed up at Galeazzo with a dazed, needy look.

"So you've done this before." Chuckling, Galeazzo leaned over to grasp Giovanni's cock again and gave it a few rough strokes.

Giovanni's eyes slipped closed and he moaned softly around the thick flesh in his mouth.

Galeazzo made a small noise. "Suck," he ordered, as he teased his thumb back and forth over the head of Giovanni's cock.

Giovanni obeyed blindly, unable to think of anything other than pleasure now. He gave a small whimper at the touch, his hips arching into Galeazzo's hand.

"Nngh, good." Galeazzo rewarded the assassin's obedience with swifter strokes, as he fondled that lovely hair with his other hand. Ah, yes. Lorenzo did hate sharing his nice things, and now Galeazzo knew why. He could get used to having a man like this in his bed every night.

Giovanni gave a pleading moan, wholly abandoned to Galeazzo's touch, his command.

Galeazzo groaned as he bucked his hips up, growling, "Deeper."

Thankfully, Giovanni was too relaxed to choke as Galeazzo thrust down his throat. He simply took the hot flesh, swallowing around him.

"Ah, yes," Galeazzo gasped. "With a mouth like this...mm...no wonder Lorenzo keeps you so close." He tipped Giovanni's chin up so those dark, needy eyes looked up at him.

Giovanni made a soft sound of want, looking up at Galeazzo with glazed eyes.

That little sound was all it took to undo Galeazzo, who moaned and spilled his seed in Giovanni's mouth, fingers clenching almost painfully tight in the other's hair.

Giovanni made a muffled sound, swallowing instinctively. He whined once he caught his breath, hips pressing into Galeazzo's hand impatiently.

Galeazzo took several deep breaths once he'd finished, eyes half-lidding blissfully. To think the man had swallowed – without protest! - it was better than many women he'd enjoyed. His gaze drifted lazily down to the flushed face in his lap, as he said, "Is this what you want?" He spat in his hand and palmed the tip of Giovanni's cock.

Giovanni shuddered, a pleading little moan escaping his raw throat.

Laughing noiselessly, Galeazzo pumped his hand once over the shaft, slicking it with saliva, then squeezed tight at the head of Giovanni's cock. "Or... is there something else?" He grinned wickedly, as he nudged Giovanni's thighs apart.

Giovanni made a small, strangled noise, spreading his legs willingly.

"Ah, so he has taken you before." Galeazzo shook his head and grinned. "As I thought, still demanding." Reaching into the pocket of his doublet, he pulled out a small bottle of oil and coated his fingers, then pressed them to Giovanni's entrance.

Giovanni made a soft keening sound and pressed back against the teasing fingers eagerly. He couldn't help wanting more.

Galeazzo pushed one finger, then another inside, twisting them around until they were buried up to the knuckles in Giovanni's tight heat.

Giovanni opened his legs wider, grinding down against the invasion mindlessly. "Please!"

"Oh, yes. Beautiful." Galeazzo thrust against the spot that made the assassin beg again, his eyes narrow and hungry. He bent down to claim Giovanni's lips again in a searing kiss.

Giovanni moaned wantonly, managing to gasp out, "More," before his lips were taken.

But Galeazzo took his time teasing the assassin, feeling every shiver of that long, lean body when he thrust his fingers, every needy shift of the hips when he pulled them out. He slid a third inside, scissoring them to stretch that hole, before he felt his own arousal stir again at the sight of Giovanni spread out beneath him. "Your proud demeanor belies you, L'Aquila." He bit lightly at the other's earlobe. "In truth, you love this, being pushed down by another man." He curled his fingers against that spot. "Being taken."

The words struck something deep within Giovanni's mind, something he'd never dreamed existed, nor would have acknowledged if he had. The mere words made him shudder and arch helplessly, spreading himself wide, even without the extra stimulation. "Yes..."

Galeazzo's eyes glittered darkly at the breathless plea, and without further pause, he gripped Giovanni's thighs and thrust roughly inside with a single, sharp snap of his hips.

Giovanni gave a guttural moan, shuddering as he was taken so demandingly.

Galeazzo hissed at the raw heat that enveloped his cock. "Ngh... ah gods, tight." His teeth closed around the crook of Giovanni's neck, as he gasped. "Has it been so long... since Lorenzo's had you?" He began thrusting in and out at a furious pace, nails digging into Giovanni's inner thigh.

Giovanni whimpered at the bite, clenching around the thick, hot flesh. "Never," he gasped, breathless with want at the brutal pace.

At the sharp constriction, Galeazzo groaned and rocked deep into Giovanni. But at the single soft word he forced himself to pause, despite how achingly sweet the other man's body felt wrapped around his length. ""Never? He hasn't... given you this pleasure?"

Giovanni moaned and arched up at the deep penetration, shaking his head and making an impatient little sound at the pause.

Galeazzo's eyes darkened, and his lips curled into a smirk. So, he'd finally beaten Lorenzo to one of his own delightful treasures. "Then... stay with me instead. I'll make sure... you're never deprived in bed."

Leaning in, he clamped his teeth onto Giovanni's collarbone, sucking at it until he left a possessive red mark, as he redoubled the speed of his thrusts.

Giovanni moaned helplessly, his hips arching up to meet the fierce thrusts. A part of him wanted to be able to do this again, wanted to say yes. But even with drugs and pleasure drowning his mind, he could not agree to abandoning Lorenzo.

"Still... loyal, I see, nnh!" Galeazzo too was fast losing himself to pleasure, his thrusts becoming quicker and more erratic. "But remember... how good it felt... next time you're with him." He pulled Giovanni up into his lap so he could penetrate deeper, all but impaling the assassin on his cock, and rubbed his thumb over the sensitive slit of Giovanni's member to elicit another delicious squeeze of that heat around him.

The new angle and the arousing touch were too much after being teased for so long, and Giovanni gave a choked cry, shuddering as he climaxed.

At the tense cry of pleasure, Galeazzo groaned and came as well, shooting his seed deep into Giovanni.

Giovanni moaned softly, collapsing bonelessly against Galeazzo's chest.

Galeazzo continued to stroke the flushed, sweat-sheened muscles, immortalizing the image in his memory, even as he slipped out of the assassin and pressed Giovanni back on the bed. "You are quite the prize, L'Aquila," he murmured, tracing the curve of one cheek. "My offer still stands, if you choose to take it." Galeazzo's eyes glittered. "I am quite generous to those I favor."

Giovanni gave him a dazed look. In the aftermath of his pleasure, things were becoming even more vague and faint as consciousness started to slip away from him.

Chuckling, Galeazzo withdrew. "But we can talk more tomorrow." Stealing one last kiss from the unresisting mouth, he quickly cleaned up the evidence of their tryst with a kerchief and left silently through the door.

*********

Lorenzo sat up late in the guest room, composing letters to his allies across Italy. He needed to finish these by the morning, so the courier could deliver them as soon as possible, for any delay would only aid the Pazzi. At least the negotiations with Galeazzo had gone well, he thought. Despite the Duke's seemingly cavalier attitude and sexual escapades, Galeazzo was a shrewd politician, and he knew he could count on Milanese troops to help in re-taking Firenze.

Nevertheless, Lorenzo's thoughts kept wandering back to Giovanni. His assassin had not looked well during dinner, and had left quite prematurely with only the most barely civil of excuses. The man had given up much to see him safely here, and perhaps it was Lorenzo's dependence on him during the journey or perhaps it was the way the assassin had charged into certain death for him without hesitation, but Lorenzo felt he owed Giovanni at least that much concern in return.

Setting his quill down on his desk, he rose and rang for a servant, who directed him to the wing of the castello where Giovanni was housed. These guest quarters were significantly plainer than his own - set close to the barracks, they were clearly intended only for the military retinue that accompanied visiting leaders of state. Lorenzo hesitated before knocking on the door. It was dark inside; perhaps Giovanni had already gone to bed.

A muted groan came from within, but no words. Something about that sound heightened Lorenzo's worry, and he pushed open the door to see the older man sprawled on the bed in ungainly disarray, his skin flushed and clammy.

"Oh, Giovanni." At the sight of his assassin splayed out, obviously ill, his eyes filled with concern. He lit a candle and brought it to the bedside, feeling Giovanni’s brow for fever.

Fever it was, and startlingly high. The assassin blinked wearily at the touch, his eyes hugely dilated and unfocused.

"I'll send for a doctor immediately," Lorenzo whispered, as he brushed aside a wisp of sweat-dampened hair. He rose and went to the door, where he accosted the nearest servant, ordering him to send speedily for a physician - the one who had treated Lorenzo's wounds, for he knew that Galeazzo would have sent his own personal doctor for that.

"Lorenzo..." Giovanni turned towards him, reaching for the other man as he left the bedside.

"I'm here." Seeing Giovanni more awake, Lorenzo returned quickly to the other man's side, taking his hand gently. "You should have said something if you knew you were this ill."

"Didn't know...until tonight," Giovanni managed, his words slow and his breath labored. "Don't worry. Your alliance....is secure."

"Alliance?" Lorenzo looked confused. "What does your illness have to do with that?"

"What Galeazzo wanted," Giovanni murmured, still vague and unfocused, "I gave. Wanted you to know."

Lorenzo's blood ran cold at those words. Galeazzo. What Galeazzo wanted. What else would Galeazzo have wanted from his assassin, with those lascivious looks and offers, except -

"And what did you give him, exactly?" Lorenzo asked very carefully, his voice deadly calm.

"Sex," Giovanni said plainly. "Said...negotiations stalled. Wanted me…exchange for aid." Giovanni shifted, the movement heavy and clumsy, utterly unlike him. "Something wrong. Feel sick. Leg's....infected, I think."

"Giovanni, you fool. You stupid, stupid _fool_." Lorenzo cursed roundly, his heart aching at those words from his proud assassin. To think that Galeazzo would stoop so low as to trick an injured man just to sate his base lust... Lorenzo's hand curled into a fist, his vision flashing white hot with anger. If he were not in such a pathetic position, if he had only known to protect Giovanni...

But now was not the time. Pulling aside the covers from Giovanni's leg, he gently touched the swollen, red patch of skin, oozing fluids from beneath the bandage. Although he was not a doctor, he could tell it was infected.

Giovanni shuddered at the touch to the already painful area. The skin was hot to the touch, with red streaks leading away from the wound. The infection was well-established.

Lorenzo withdrew his hand quickly - he didn't want to cause Giovanni any more pain, or disturb the wound further. "The doctor will be here soon," he soothed. Trying to recall what he'd been given on those occasions when he suffered from fever, Lorenzo asked, "Is there...something I can get you? Water, perhaps?" It was strange, again, being the caretaker and carrying out these mundane tasks, but for Giovanni's sake it somehow felt natural.

"Please," Giovanni said hoarsely, coughing as his raw throat ached.

Lorenzo left the room briefly, and when he returned, he bore a pitcher of cold water and a cup, along with a soaked towel. He poured some water and extended it to Giovanni, then realized the other man might not have the strength to sit up, so he set it back down on the table, asking somewhat awkwardly, "Ah...you should - " He caught himself before giving the order. "I mean, can you sit up?"

Giovanni shifted sluggishly but couldn't rise from the bed, with the combination of drugs and illness sapping the strength from his limbs.

Reaching around behind Giovanni's neck, Lorenzo lifted the other man's head gently and pressed the cup to his lips. "Here, it's water. Drink."

Giovanni drank the entire cup, clumsily lifting a hand to rest on Lorenzo's wrist.

Lorenzo held the cup steady until Giovanni had drunk his fill. "More?" he asked quietly, easing his arm up so Giovanni could rest more comfortably.

Giovanni nodded, weakly squeezing Lorenzo's arm. "Thank you," he rasped.

"It's...the least I can do." Lorenzo looked somewhat embarrassed, as he refilled the glass and held again it to Giovanni's lips. He stroked the damp, sticky locks at the other's neck, feeling the heat radiating off the flushed skin.

Giovanni drank a little more, then leaned back wearily. "So hot..." he mumbled.

"This may help." Laying Giovanni back down on the pillow gently, Lorenzo took the towel soaked in cool water and dabbed it across Giovanni's brow.

Giovanni sighed in relief, turning towards Lorenzo's touch.

A soft smile warmed Lorenzo's blue eyes, and he continued stroking Giovanni's face with the cloth, until the heated flush had receded.

"Better," Giovanni mumbled, kicking weakly at the thick blanket.

Lorenzo peeled back the covers to Giovanni's waist, but refused to pull it off completely, remonstrating, "You'll catch a cold too, if you kick it all off." He sounded like his mother, he thought wryly. As his eyes wandered across the scars on Giovanni's chest - some new, many old, including a knife wound that struck far too close to the heart for comfort - Lorenzo frowned when he lit on a red spot at the base of Giovanni's collar. "Where did you…" When he touched it, he realized it was a bite mark, and he flushed remembering Giovanni's mumbled words about Galeazzo. So it was true, not simply the hallucinations of a sick man. "Ah, Giovanni," he murmured sorrowfully, stroking the marked skin.

Giovanni dragged a hand up to cover the mark, shame flitting through his clouded eyes. "I did...what I had to."

"You shouldn't have," Lorenzo said fiercely, his blue eyes blazing. "Never would I have asked you to do that for me, not even for my life."

Giovanni managed a tired smile. "I know. But some...sacrifices are worth it."

Lorenzo didn't have the heart to tell him it was all Galeazzo's trickery. Instead, he squeezed Giovanni's hand, stroking his brow comfortingly until the doctor could come to tend the wound.

*** 

It wasn't long before the doctor arrived, grumbling sleepily at the late hour. "Hmm, what have we were?" he muttered, unwrapping the bandages. "Definitely going rotten. Well, we'll do what we can and maybe he won't lose the leg." He cleaned the wound and rebandaged it - not particularly gently, if the way Giovanni squeezed Lorenzo's hand was any indication. "Now, some leeches to let the blood should help rebalance the humours."

Giovanni stirred at the mention of leeches, shaking his head slowly. "No...don't let..." he mumbled.

"Ah, is that really necessary, doctor?" Lorenzo was not altogether fond of the slimy creatures himself, having met with his share of bloodlettings for illness. "The man has already lost a good deal of blood recently."

"Hmph, I suppose if you think you know better than the doctor," the man grumbled as he went about checking Giovanni's vital signs. "How long as he been like this? What symptoms has he shown?"

"I only found him in this state half an hour ago, dazed and running a high fever. I do not know how long ago he fell ill, but he was with me and the Duke during dinner tonight, and his symptoms were not so severe." Lorenzo frowned, recalling Giovanni's demeanor at the table. "A little pale, perhaps. And tired. But not so sluggish as he is now." 

The doctor nodded and rummaged in his things, coming up with a small bottle. "Here, help him swallow this. It should help clear his head, maybe shake off a little of the lethargy. I'll start some willow bark tea for the pain and fever."

Lorenzo frowned with concern. "What is it, doctor? Is there something other than the infection?" He looked at the small, unlabeled bottle of dark liquid, trying to remember if he'd ever heard of such medicine before and hoping that if he did, it was not in connection to a life-threatening illness.

"No, no, we just want to help him be a little more comfortable, si?"

Lorenzo nodded silently. "Giovanni," he murmured, gently tilting the other man's head toward him. He uncorked the bottle and lifted it to Giovanni's lips. "Drink this. It will help you feel better."

Giovanni swallowed the bitter fluid without hesitation, his glazed eyes holding a look of absolute trust in Lorenzo.

Lorenzo stroked his fingers gently through Giovanni's damp hair, a stab of guilt washing over him at the undeserved trust he saw in the other's eyes. It was his fault this had happened, after all. He had introduced Galeazzo as a friend and ally, and Giovanni had accepted it without question, only for that trust to be exploited in the most egregious of ways. "More water to wash it down?" Lorenzo asked softly, reaching for the glass.

"Please," Giovanni mumbled, nodding. The sensation of Lorenzo cradling his head was comforting - a warm, safe feeling he rarely had. He closed his eyes tiredly. Everything would be all right. Lorenzo would not let anything bad happen to him.

Lorenzo let Giovanni drink his fill from the glass, and afterward, wiped a finger gently over the few stray droplets that trickled down Giovanni's chin. Looking down at the dark, glazed eyes and pale, exposed neck - it was the only time he'd seen his assassin so utterly open... vulnerable - he felt a surge of protectiveness course through him, and pulled Giovanni to him fiercely.

Giovanni blinked as he was suddenly pulled into Lorenzo's arms. He made a confused little sound, but at the same time he rested his head against Lorenzo's shoulder, relaxed in the safe, warm embrace.

"Rest, Giovanni," Lorenzo whispered. He pulled a light blanket over Giovanni's shoulders, enough to guard against the night chill, but not so much as to overheat him. "I..." He wanted to say that he would protect his assassin, but as he'd failed at that already, Lorenzo could only promise, "I will set things right." His eyes glinted coldly as he thought of what he'd do once he confronted Galeazzo...

Giovanni nodded and yawned, nuzzling Lorenzo's shoulder absently. "Stay?" he murmured, his eyes already falling shut.

"Yes." And indeed, Lorenzo stayed until he was sure Giovanni was asleep before gently laying the older man’s head back down on the pillow and blowing out the candle.

*********

Galeazzo was sitting in his office with his feet on the desk, not even pretending to work, when Lorenzo stalked in. "Oh dear, you do look unhappy. Is something wrong?" He gave the prince a practiced smile, hiding his inner uneasiness.

"Galeazzo!" Lorenzo yelled, face twisted in anger. His hands were clenched into fists, the knuckles white, and it was only a lifetime of poised control that prevented him from slamming them into the Duke's smug face. "Did I not tell you," he growled, "that I expected you to show the utmost respect to my guest?!"

"And so I have! Whatever is the matter, my dear friend?" Galeazzo was the picture of innocence.

"Don't act as if you're innocent!" Lorenzo stabbed an accusing finger at him. "I know exactly what you did last night, the _lies_ you told to deceive L'Aquila into your bed."

"Lies?" Galeazzo feigned hurt indignation. "I told no lies! I did notice that he seemed to have taken a shade too much wine, but he was willing when he approached me."

"The lies about trading his body for our military alliance!" Lorenzo snapped, voice fairly shaking with fury. He leaned over the table. "You knew he would never agree to share your bed willingly, so you used his loyalty to me to get what you wanted."

"Oh dear," Galeazzo pretended to be distressed. "I had made a joke earlier about how I should ask you for that. I thought I was clear that you'd never agree to such an arrangement even if I had been serious, but he must have misunderstood me. I never dreamed at the time that it was why he approached me. How terrible, I do hope I can make it up to him."

" _You_ will do nothing of the sort," Lorenzo retorted. If there was one thing worse than Galeazzo's untethered lust, it was allowing Galeazzo access to any unhappy partners afterward, so he could silence them with threats or bribes or more often than not, simple manipulation. Lowering his voice to a caustic pitch, Lorenzo snarled, "I've paid to cover up your little indiscretions in the past, Galeazzo." He waved an arm. "The wives, the daughters who still sincerely believe it was their fault for falling under the Duke's spell. Don't think for a second your lies will work on me." Once Giovanni had recovered from his fever, Lorenzo was determined to get the truth out of him. "I know L'Aquila," he said confidently. "He would never mistake such foolish lies."

"I admit that I was a little surprised by his change of heart. My doctor tell me he's ill, I wonder now if perhaps his fever was affecting his mind. I thought him quite warm, but dismissed it as merely passion," Galeazzo maintained his innocent facade in the face of Lorenzo's fury.

"So not only did you lie, but you took advantage of a sick man's confusion as well!"

"I didn't realize he was sick! And I wasn't lying!" Galeazzo protested in blatant disregard for the truth.

Lorenzo ground his teeth in fury. Without evidence, he would get nowhere in the face of Galeazzo's stubborn denials. He had to talk to Giovanni. "I will find out what happened, Galeazzo," Lorenzo growled lowly, "and if it turns out your version of events is not what occurred..." He left the threat hanging in the air before whirling and storming out of the room.

Galeazzo sighed. Really, all that fuss over a simple bodyguard. Whatever was Lorenzo thinking?

*********

Giovanni looked up as Lorenzo came in. It was clear that he still felt very unwell, but he greeted the younger man as though nothing were wrong. "Altezza. Is everything proceeding well?"

"Perfectly." But Lorenzo sounded distracted. "You are looking better today." He glanced over Giovanni, wondering if the other man remembered the previous night. "How fares your leg? Will you be able to travel in a few days?"

"Of course," Giovanni said with a confidence he didn't feel. His fever was still high and though his head felt clearer and his limbs less numbed, he was still listless and in a great deal of pain. But Lorenzo would need him when they retook Firenze. He would manage it, somehow.

"If you are unwell, then you should remain here to recover. Galeazzo has lent me his support, so I will have Milan's troops to accompany me back to Firenze."

"I'm fine," Giovanni struggled to sit up, his jaw clenching from the agony the movement brought. "I will be coming with you."

"You'll do nothing in this state," Lorenzo commanded with some of his usual haughty tone, as he pressed a hand firmly to Giovanni's chest. "Lie down." Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tic marring his brow. This was not a subject he felt comfortable broaching, even with his years of experience handling delicate matters. "Giovanni..." he began carefully, "do you recall what you said last night? About the Duke."

Giovanni lay back down with a sigh, irritated at his body's weakness. He was determined to go with Lorenzo, even if he had to sneak out and steal a horse to do it. At Lorenzo's question, though, he looked surprised. He gave it a moment's thought, but in the end he shook his head. "Mi dispiace, Altezza. My fever was quite high last night and my memory seems to have suffered as a result of it. I remember that you came to see me," a memory that was a vague impression of gentleness and warmth, of tender care and feeling safe, "but I'm afraid that the details elude me."

"You said he visited you following dinner," Lorenzo prodded gently, eyes betraying his concern. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Not well," Giovanni shook his head again. "We spoke about the negotiations and.... after that, it's very vague." Despite Giovanni's words, his gaze dropped from Lorenzo's at the last bit, shifting away with another flash of shame that suggested he did remember, but didn't want to discuss it.

Lorenzo frowned at the other's evasiveness. It seems his suspicions were right. "Galeazzo tells me you two were quite... close. Intimate, even." Although he knew it pained the assassin, Lorenzo pressed on. "Is this true?"

The assassin's shoulders hunched defensively, and he turned his head away.

"Giovanni..." Lorenzo shook his head, sympathy written across his face. "If circumstances between you two were not... agreeable," his voice hardened just a fraction, "I need to know the truth."

"You think he forced me, Altezza? Really?" Giovanni said dryly, trying to deflect the line of questioning away from what had really occurred. "I am wounded, but not yet that feeble."

"Brute force is hardly the only way to elicit favors from someone. And you are avoiding the question," Lorenzo pointed out sharply. "I ask again - what happened?"

Giovanni folded his arms over his chest. "We need his help," he muttered.

"Help?" Lorenzo frowned at the confirmation. "That is what this is about, his military help?"

The assassin remained stubbornly silent, looking very defensive and slightly sullen.

"And how, in the name of sweet Santa Maria, were you expecting to _get_ that help by falling into the Duke's bed?" Lorenzo asked, still incredulous.

"He said he would give me anything I asked for," Giovanni said, distinctly sulky now. At least, that was as close as he could recall to his conversation with Galeazzo. Despite his condition, he pulled himself up on one elbow, glaring at Lorenzo. “I did this for you,” he growled hoarsely. “I let him use me like a whore so that you could have the army to take back your precious fucking Firenze. So don’t you dare look down on me for that!”

"And did I ask that of you?" Lorenzo snapped, fire sparking in his eyes. "You must have a very low opinion of me, to think I'd trade your body in exchange for a handful of soldiers."

"It sounds nice when you say it that way," Giovanni hissed. "But given a choice between me and Firenze, I know how you would have chosen. Firenze is dearer to your heart than any person within her walls."

"Do not presume to tell me what I would have done!" Lorenzo roared, anger masking the pain he felt at hearing how little his assassin trusted him. To think Giovanni held him in so little regard... He hardened his jaw and met the other's eyes with rare, naked emotion. "A city is nothing without her people, Giovanni. And I a poor man indeed to sell my friends for an empty fortress." His gaze dropped to the floor, as he said in a quiet tone, "I would rather Firenze's walls crumble to dust than rebuild them upon the dignity of those I hold dear."

Giovanni's gaze dropped to the floor, his anger dissipating as Lorenzo's did. "I know you would never have asked it of me," he admitted quietly, "I wanted to spare you the choice. It seemed like the best course of action at the time; though given that my medicine was surprisingly heavy on the opium, it is likely safe to say that I may not have been thinking very clearly."

"Opium?" Lorenzo looked surprised. "Why did you not tell me this earlier?"

"I still made my choice," Giovanni shrugged, "Whether it was poor judgment or no."

"It was unbelievably poor judgment, and now I know why." He would see to it that doctor was severely punished. Something about the way Giovanni shrugged, as if what he did was merely another duty, stirred a thick torrent of emotion inside Lorenzo, and he said with inexorable steel in his voice, "Do not ever cheapen yourself again on my behalf, Giovanni. That is one infraction I will never forgive."

"I will bear that in mind," Giovanni replied, his face unreadable.

"You are not a politician," Lorenzo continued testily, not completely convinced by Giovanni's stiff reply. "Do not try to assist in my diplomatic affairs."

Giovanni's face went stony again, his silence once again taking on a sullen air. He had already been in no mood for an argument when Lorenzo walked in, and he was no happier about the confrontation now. Since he'd refused to touch any more of the medicine, his leg was once again a throbbing agony and his fever was spiking along with his temper.

And the march to retake Firenze was in just two days.

*********

Giovanni was glad of his enveloping robes on the long ride back towards Firenze. He was sweating and pale, his jaw perpetually clenched from the searing pain that jolted through him with each step his horse took. The infection was getting worse and he knew it, but what could he do when Lorenzo needed him?

Lorenzo had tried to convince his assassin to remain in Milano to recover, but Giovanni stubbornly refused. Now, as he cast a glance back at the older man, so obviously sick and in pain, he wished he had been sterner in his command. Though they could ill afford to linger, he called a brief stop to the march, citing a need to go over some last details of the assault before the city came into view over the last few hills.

He approached Giovanni, resolving to send the assassin to the nearest safe haven, in chains if need be.

"Altezza," Giovanni bowed his head respectfully. "What do you need of me?"

"I need you to go home," Lorenzo said, folding his arms as he looked his assassin up and down. Though the robes hid Giovanni's injury, he could tell from the other's posture that the leg ailed him worse. "You are in no condition to fight, and any further riding will only exacerbate your injury."

"I can at least stay by your side and protect you," Giovanni said stubbornly. "As for the riding, I would need to ride anyway to get to Monteriggioni, so it is all the same to me."

"I have all the soldiers of Milano at my back, along with several contingents from my neighboring allies. I will be fine," Lorenzo replied confidently, though in truth he knew the plan was a dangerous one, and he would need to be at the center of the fighting in order to rally his supporters in Firenze. "You, on the other hand, are in danger of losing your leg if you do not get rest and medical aid immediately."

"You and I both know it won't be that easy. If I lose my leg, so be it. There is no one else I would trust to be at your side."

Lorenzo frowned. "You are being quite cavalier about the loss of a limb, Giovanni. What use will I have for an assassin who cannot walk?" Although he knew the cold words would hurt Giovanni, he also knew that bitter medicine would heal once swallowed.

Giovanni's lips thinned. "So that's it, then, you're merely interested in preserving what's useful to you."

"I am interested in your well-being, and if you cannot see that, then you're even more ill than I thought."

"I cannot leave you to walk into battle alone! I will protect you even if it costs me my leg, even if it costs my _life_."

"You will be protecting no one in a state like this! Do you think you can wield a sword or dodge a blow, when every step causes you pain?" Lorenzo tried to reason with the battle-hardened part of Giovanni. "Your presence will only be a burden. I cannot afford men to watch out for you should you fall."

"And who will watch out for you if I do not? Better a wounded protector than none at all."

Lorenzo ground his teeth in frustration. "Giovanni, you are trying my patience. Either leave now, or I will have my men escort you to Monteriggioni."

Giovanni's jaw tightened at the dismissal. "Then I will at least not deprive you of them," he bit out, turning his horse toward Monteriggioni.

Lorenzo sighed, rubbing at his brow. He had hoped their parting would be more amicable than this, especially since he could not say what lay ahead or even if he'd see Giovanni again once this day was over. The assault would be perilous, despite all his and Galeazzo's meticulous planning, and who knew what traps the Pazzi had laid in anticipation? If he were to fall, Lorenzo did not want the last words between them to be ones of harsh command. He knew Giovanni would never be able to forgive himself.

Spurring his horse down the road, Lorenzo caught up with his assassin. "Wait. There is something else." He removed a packet of sealed letters from his pouch, which he had penned during their stay in Milano. They were addressed to his wife and children. Pressing them into Giovanni's hands, he said, "Should... events not turn out as planned - " His eyes flickered briefly for a moment, remembering the fate of past failed insurrections, the corpses of their leaders hung from the roof of the church. " - I want you to deliver this to my family. See that they make it to safety, and no harm comes to them." By giving this task to Giovanni, he might even be able to prevent the assassin from circling back and sneaking into battle beside him with that typical disobedient grin, Lorenzo thought wryly.

Giovanni looked down at the letters, and his eyes softened even as his worry grew. "You will not need fear for them," he promised. "Will you not reconsider? I can fight from horseback, I do not need my leg for that. At the very least I could be a shield for enemy arrows." Unlike his previous stubborn insistence, however, Giovanni's voice was softly pleading.

It was difficult to refuse that pleading, protective voice, one he'd come to rely on since the days of his youth, but Lorenzo knew he must shake his head. "No. This task is far more important, Giovanni." Gripping the other's hand tight, Lorenzo locked eyes with his assassin. "I am entrusting you not only with the lives of my family, but my family's name as well." He put all the command and fierceness into his next words. "Swear to me you will not let the Medici die."

"Even if it means my death, I swear it," Giovanni said softly, obviously unhappy at being left behind even as he accepted his charge.

"Thank you." He laid a hand on Giovanni's shoulder, face contorting for a moment. There were words he'd like to say, affectionate words, words that only a lover might hear. But Lorenzo knew that he could never indulge such fantasies. Instead, he gave Giovanni a squeeze, hoping it would communicate all that was left unsaid.

"I have something for you as well." Lorenzo reached into his bag and took out a small slip of parchment, on which was jotted a string of numbers and a coded password. He folded it into Giovanni's hand, knowing the other would recognize it as a bank account number. "My personal account." It was a secret safe deposit, separate and untraceable, containing a small fortune in gold and coin. Only a handful of people even knew of its existence. "If things do not work out, then it is unlikely you'll be able to return to Firenze. I wanted to ensure that your years of service would continue to be rewarded." Lorenzo's lips twitched. "You could move to another city, start a series of Auditore banks." He tried for a smile. "You were always better at numbers."

Giovanni shook his head. "If things do not work out, then this money will be used to keep your wife and children, and later your grandchildren - to maintain your line, as you asked."

"I have already included the means to my family's livelihood in these letters. This is only for you."

"You know I cannot accept it. I do not need it to start over elsewhere, and I can always fall back to Monteriggioni if all else fails."

"You should not have to. Work will be difficult enough to find with connections to a disgraced family, I do not want you or your children to suffer more." Lorenzo was insistent. "There is enough here to ensure you need not fill out another ledger for the rest of your life."

"No one knows that I was anything more than an employee of yours, surely they will not blame every last clerk. In Venezia or Roma, no one would have even heard of the Auditore. It would be easy enough to find work there," Giovanni protested, but at the reminder of his children's welfare, he took the slip of paper reluctantly. Pride wouldn't buy Petruccio's medicine, and Monteriggioni had little coin to spare.

Lorenzo sighed. The more he tried to do for Giovanni, it seemed, the more he made the other man unhappy. But time was too short to dwell on such matters now. "You are an honorable man, Giovanni Auditore," he said with great sincerity, allowing the warmth to shine through his azure eyes. "May fortune always grace you with her smile."

Giovanni gripped Lorenzo's forearm briefly, then drew his sword and offered it to the prince hilt-first. "I have held many blades over the years, and this is the best of them all. If I cannot be by your side, at least take it with you in my stead."

Lorenzo accepted the blade from his assassin, handling it as he would something truly precious and priceless and promising, "I will wield it with pride."

“I expect you to return it to me in person once this is all over and done,” Giovanni said as sternly as he could manage. “Promise me that, Altezza.”

“I swear,” Lorenzo said quietly. “I will keep your blade safe, and return it to you with my own hands.”

"Then may it keep you safe as well," Giovanni said, allowing his gratitude to show. They both knew that Lorenzo could not realistically promise to survive the coming battle, but the oath still made Giovanni feel slightly better. He turned his horse towards Monteriggioni. "Good hunting."

All he could think was that he'd failed Lorenzo.

*********

Mario was not by nature a superstitious man, having just enough belief in religion to appease whatever god may be up there, but he'd been tormented by a bad premonition all day, so when the evening patrol came around, he volunteered to lead it himself. Pazzi thugs still prowled the countryside, and he wanted to ensure the villagers who lived outside Monteriggioni's walls were protected. As he left the villa grounds, however, Mario saw a familiar horse wandering riderless on the road, and a chill went down his spine. The dun coat, the intelligent eyes, the saddle and pouches from his own stable - it was his brother's horse. Without his brother.

At his approach, the steed neighed and cantered toward him. Mario called a halt to his men. The chill in his spine froze solid when he saw the streak of blood on its side. "Giovanni..." he murmured, eyes going dark. If that bastard Lorenzo had somehow gotten his little brother killed...

The horse neighed again, nudging at him with its head. Mario had trained his steeds well; he knew it was trying to lead him somewhere. Signaling his mercenaries, he followed Giovanni's horse down the road. Soon, they came upon a small grove of trees beside the road, beneath which lay Giovanni, crumpled up and unconscious, blood staining the robes around his leg.

Mario practically leaped off his horse and sprinted to Giovanni's side. "Giovanni!" he cried, as he knelt and searched the body for injuries. Dear God, he thought, I may not have believed in you before this day, but if you save my little brother -

Giovanni stirred at the commotion, blinking slowly at his brother. "Mario," he rasped. "Am I dreaming?" He didn't remember much of how he'd gotten there - after turning his horse toward Monteriggioni and leaving the others, he'd had no reason to keep hiding how sick he really was. Fever wracked his limbs and his leg was a solid mass of agony.

Mario breathed a deep sigh of relief. At least Giovanni was alive - although by the looks of it, and Mario had seen scores of battlefield injuries (many his own), suffering from a bad infection. "No, you're safe. You're almost home. We're going to get you back to Monteriggioni." He wrapped an arm around Giovanni's back. "Can you stand?"

"Home...home sounds good," Giovanni mumbled, then added, "Don't think so," in answer to Mario's question. "Leg really hurts."

"I'll carry you then. Like the old days," he whispered with a little glimmer of sadness. Sliding his other hand beneath Giovanni's legs, Mario lifted his little brother up with an 'oof', taking as much care as he could not to disturb the injury. One of his mercenaries brought over the horse, and with the man's help, he got Giovanni settled in the saddle as comfortably as possible. "Hold on," he said as he wrapped Giovanni's fingers around the reins before climbing up behind him. "The villa's just up the hill. I'll have the doctor waiting." Mario waved one of his mercenaries over and told the man to ride ahead to inform the doctor he would have a patient coming.

Giovanni made a choked little sound of pain despite Mario's care. He wrapped a hand around Mario's shirt, holding on tight. "Like when we were children, in the mines. I broke my ankle, you brought me home."

"Yes. And you wouldn't cry a tear to show how tough you were." He flashed a grin, hoping to reassure Giovanni. "Father may have seemed angry that day, but beneath his bluster, he was proud of us for making it through. Like you will now."

Giovanni nodded, resting his head against his brother's shoulder. "Can't give up. Too many reasons to fight," he mumbled, then fell quiet for a moment before adding softly, "I failed."

"You did not," Mario said fiercely. "You've given more than anyone to Firenze's safety, to the Brotherhood."

"I let Firenze fall. I cannot even be there to help take her back. That is failure."

Mario shook his head. "You are the reason Lorenzo de' Medici is even alive to re-take Firenze. If it were not for you, the Templars would have gained control of the city a long time ago." He added gently, "I have seen many a fierce warrior fall to illness. There is no shame in that."

"I would have gone even so. Lorenzo sent me home," Giovanni mumbled unhappily.

"Hmph. Then Lorenzo is not so bad as he seems." Mario looked somewhat surprised at the revelation. He had not expected the arrogant ruler of Firenze to care much for his soldiers' well-being, so long as they served obediently in his power games. "Definitely smarter than you, if he can see you're in no shape to lift a blade." His brow furrowed as he noticed Giovanni's weapon was missing. "Where is your sword?" The blade was one of his brother's most prized possessions, once wielded by the legendary assassin Altair, then discovered and passed down through the Auditore family for ages. Giovanni would stake his life on it.

"Lent it to him. He won't have me to protect him. Can at least have a good blade. The best," Giovanni muttered. He seemed to be having a hard time focusing on the conversation.

Mario sighed. "You really do care about him, don't you," he muttered, not unkindly. For an assassin to lend another his weapon was the greatest sign of trust of all. Even more so, when that person was not one of the Brotherhood.

Sensing Giovanni was falling back into unconsciousness, Mario said, "We're at the villa." He could see the doctor waiting for them inside. "Sleep now, I'll have a stretcher prepared to bring you inside."

Giovanni tried to hold onto consciousness - he could see Maria and his children waiting at the entrance to the villa and he did not want to worry them. But the pain and fever and exertion proved too much, and his eyes slipped shut as he went limp against Mario's burly chest.

Motioning her children to wait, Maria strode out to meet them. "What can you tell me, and what can I do for him?" she asked crisply, letting none of her fear for her husband show.

"I found him on the side of the road, barely conscious." Once the stretcher was readied, Mario and one of the servants lifted Giovanni onto it. As they brought the unconscious assassin inside, he continued, "He's suffered a few wounds, none serious, but I think the one on his leg is infected. I'll have the doctor look at him first. However, from my experience, the best you can give him is rest and care." He clasped Maria's hand once he'd laid Giovanni gently down on the bed. "Giovanni is strong. He will make it."

Maria squeezed his hand, lifting her head to keep tears from spilling. "He'd better, or once I make it to the hereafter, I'll never let him hear the end of it."

"That makes two of us," Mario promised, meeting her strong-spirited gaze with his one good eye.

*********

Giovanni wandered in and out of fever dreams, barely conscious even at the best of times. When a cool cloth bathed his brow, it reminded him something, and he mumbled, "Lorenzo?"

By his bedside, Maria raised an eyebrow. It seemed that her husband and il Magnifico were closer than she would have guessed.

In his dream, Lorenzo responded, "I'm here." A gentle hand replaced the cloth, caressing his cheek and tracing the curve of his jaw.

"I'm glad," Giovanni murmured contentedly, turning his head to seek more of the comforting contact. "You are good to me."

"That is because I have always held you dear," Lorenzo replied, and now his fingers walked their way down to Giovanni's bare chest, lightly circling the jut of the collarbone. "Giovanni..." The younger man's eyes were wide and dark, full of an emotion Giovanni had never seen before.

Giovanni closed his eyes at the imaginary touch. Some part of him knew this wasn't real, knew it was only a fever-dream - but he pushed the knowledge away. He wanted to believe this was possible. "As you are to me," he murmured.

"Then..." Lorenzo leaned in, his lips barely an inch above Giovanni's ear. "Stay with me tonight," he commanded in a whisper.

"Anything for you," Giovanni said softly, trusting and relaxed.

Smiling, Lorenzo pressed a kiss to Giovanni's mouth, his long fingers winding in the other's chestnut hair.

Giovanni returned the kiss, willingly parting his lips to grant the other access.

Lorenzo slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss as he leisurely explored Giovanni's mouth. He cupped Giovanni's face and stroked the pads of his thumbs up and down the other's jawline.

Giovanni tilted his head back, exposing his throat to the other man - from an assassin, a gesture of absolute trust.

Dipping his head, Lorenzo trailed tender, wet kisses down the length of Giovanni's neck, until he was pressed against the thrum of the assassin's jugular. "Do you know how long I've desired you, Giovanni?" Lorenzo whispered. "To have, to hold, to show you my affections..." He stopped, gazing at the older man with passion in his eyes. "Why is it that until this day, you've never responded?"

It was never real, Giovanni thought, but he left the words unspoken. "I am here now," was all he said.

"And will you be here, always?"

"Always," Giovanni murmured. "As long as you want me by your side."

"Then you need never leave." Lorenzo pulled the assassin to him in a tight embrace, the kiss this time fierce and passionate. "For I love you, Giovanni Auditore."

Giovanni curled against him, content in the protective embrace - until it began to fade away as other dreams took their places, leaving him cold and alone.

*********

Maria sighed as she came into Giovanni's room. _Not again_ , she thought. Setting down her tray, she went up to her sheepishly smiling husband and pushed him back down onto the bed. "You know the doctor said no walking for three weeks, caro."

Giovann’s face twisted into a distinctly pouty expression. "The doctor also tried to feed me worm's liver, I think I'm done trusting men wearing beaks." Nevertheless, he sank back onto the bed with a wince and a sigh, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I must recover as soon as possible. With Firenze back in Medici hands, Lorenzo will need me to track down the traitors responsible for this uprising. And..." He took his wife's hands lovingly. "I want to make sure the city is safe for you, for our family, so we can return home."

"Returning to the city will mean nothing if you have hurt yourself beyond repair because you stubbornly allowed yourself too little time to heal. Don't make me chain you to this bed, my dearest."

"That's entirely unnecessary," Giovanni grumbled, but he knew Maria was right (and also quite capable of carrying out that threat). He glanced over at the tray of food on the table. "Do I at least get something besides soup for lunch today?"

Maria smiled. "That depends - if I give you something more than soup, will you be good and stay in bed?"

"If it contains some roast lamb?" Giovanni peeked under the cover hopefully.

"Your lucky day," Maria laughed softly. "Rubbed down with rosemary and oregano, just as you like it. And don't try to skip out on the vegetables, either - honestly, you're worse about that than the children."

Giovanni flashed a grin, as he dug in heartily with a fork. "But how is my leg going to heal," he asked, stabbing a particularly juicy slice of meat, "if I'm fed on rabbit food?"

"How is your leg going to heal without you eating healthy food?" she countered.

"Far faster, for one, now that I have something to look forward to besides soup and salad every day." Giovanni laughed.

"Cute. But don't think that gets you off the hook," she smiled, stroking his hair. After a moment of pensive silence, she said quietly, "You and il Magnifico are very close, si?"

Giovanni glanced over, surprised. "Well... yes. He trusts me to handle many sensitive matters for him." His brow furrowed, and he put his fork down. "What is the matter, my love?"

She touched his cheek gently. "You spoke often in your fever dreams. Spoke of him, sometimes. I know that tone of voice."

Giovanni froze for a second, as he recalled vague memories, warm memories of tender kisses and whispers of love, too embarrassing to even speak aloud. "I don't remember." He flushed and looked down, trying to hide the truth in his eyes. "It must have been the sickness talking."

"You know, I thought that too, at first. But then I remembered the way you talk about him, the regard you hold for him. Your devotion that overcomes even your fiercely proud independence. That was no sickness' influence."

Giovanni could feel his face redden further. "I have known Lorenzo for a long time, since that day I pulled him from the Arno," he said quietly. "Since then, I have watched him weather conspiracies, traitors, numerous attempts on his life, all while steering Firenze into her golden age. If there is some small thing I can do to ensure his efforts are not in vain, then I can be content in knowing I have made our home a better place for our children." He curled his fingers into his palm, wishing with all his heart that he could trample these feelings, which had ridden him with guilt and self-loathing - both for the sake of his lord, Lorenzo, and his beloved wife, Maria, who did not deserve such a fool like himself - since he'd first realized his desires for the young ruler of Firenze. "That... is all my devotion means."

"It doesn't have to be," Maria said quietly, pulling him into her arms. "If there is any man in Italia with a heart big enough to have room for two, it would be you."

"Maria, cara mia," Giovanni's eyes widened in surprise, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you want to take him as a lover, you should do so," Maria patted his hand.

"No... Maria... " For a second, Giovanni looked stricken, and then he hugged his wife tight. "I love _you_ ," he whispered fiercely in her ear, "and I love our family and our children. I could never do that to you."

Maria returned the embrace just as tightly. "I have never doubted that once in all our years of marriage, Giovanni. In fact, it is only because I am so confident in your love for me that I can offer you this. I have no fear that this would harm our marriage, I know that you love me far too much to ever let that happen. But I also know that simply because you love your family does not mean that you cannot love him also."

"It is different. With you, I feel warm, comforted, complete. There is no one who gives me greater joy than you. With Lorenzo, it's..." Giovanni shook his head. He did not know when his feelings had transcended simple loyalty and devotion into something else, or what even that something else _was_. "Even so, it does not matter," he said quietly. "To Lorenzo, I am as always merely a friend and advisor."

"Is that so?" Maria smiled, a hint of mischief showing in the expression. "He seemed very solicitous of your injuries when the two of you were here before your trip to Milano."

"What?" Giovanni blinked, before blurting out, "What did he say?"

"Oh, well, you know, I can't remember all the details," Maria said airily, knowing that Giovanni's imagination would come up with something much better than the truth. "But it was definitely concern far above and beyond that of a lord for his hired man."

Giovanni furrowed his brow. "He must have simply been worried about making it to Milano quickly. He originally wanted to get there in twelve hours, if you can believe that."

Maria shook her head. "There was no trace of impatience in his concern; it was entirely genuine, I would judge."

And indeed, if there was one person who knew a man better than that man himself, it was Maria. But Giovanni was still hesitant to believe what seemed to him impossible. "It is no more concern than he would show a friend. Lorenzo had suffered so much loss in a single day – his city, his brother - it was natural for him to worry that I, too, might desert him." He added quietly, "He came to me later that night. In all my years, I have never seen Lorenzo de' Medici so distraught." Giovanni's eyes grew distant, as he recalled the rare crack in Il Magnifico's usually impenetrable mask, when Lorenzo had allowed himself to weep on Giovanni's shoulder.

"If he allowed you to see him grieving, then you are indeed dear to him," Maria said quietly. "He is not the kind of man to let such things easily show."

"Perhaps..." Giovanni squeezed his wife's hand, looking genuinely lost. "I - I do not know what to think, Maria."

Maria smiled and kissed him gently. "The next time you are with him, watch and see if you think I am right. Then consider what you wish to do about it. Whatever you decide, I will love and support you as I always have, and my faith in your love for me will remain unshaken."

Giovanni returned the kiss slowly and tenderly, his eyes glistening as he curled his arms around his beloved Maria. "Thank you, cara mia. For putting up with an old fool like me," he whispered against her lips.

*********

Giovanni looked up anxiously as the door creaked open, desperately hoping that it wasn't Maria who was about to catch him sneaking out. He blinked in surprise when instead, it was Lorenzo who entered the room. "Altezza! You left Firenze?"

"I had come to discuss some business with you," Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, as he surveyed Giovanni's guilty expression, "but it would seem you're in no state to talk." He walked over to where his assassin stood stiffly. "How is your leg?"

"Not bad enough to keep me cooped up in here, but try telling that to Maria," Giovanni smiled wryly. "She's threatened to chain me to the bed if I don't stay there."

Lorenzo chuckled at the image, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Wouldn't that be a tragedy, my dear Giovanni," he smirked slyly. Lifting his golden scepter - rightfully reclaimed, now that he was once again recognized as ruler of Firenze - he pressed it into Giovanni's hands. "If you're going to limp about, at the very least find yourself a walking stick so you don't fall flat on your face."

Giovanni started at the scepter in his hands, wide-eyed. The symbol of the prince of Firenze, of the power he wielded - used as a mere walking stick? "Altezza, I can't possibly..." he stumbled over the words, shaking his head.

"Do not look so aghast, my dear Giovanni." Lorenzo patted his assassin on the back. "It is not the first time that scepter has found a use beyond a mere paperweight." In fact, the only time he'd been grateful for the ceremonial item was when he'd twisted his ankle during a jousting tournament.

"But it's yours," Giovanni blurted, very unlike his usually urbane, controlled self. "Your power, your status."

"And I am lending it to you," Lorenzo smiled gently, "as you lent your sword to me."

Giovanni had nothing to say to that - the sword symbolized everything that Giovanni was every bit as much as Lorenzo's scepter did the same for him. "Then I am honored," he said quietly, handling the scepter with the same reverence that Lorenzo had used in holding Altair's blade. Maria's words came back to him, and he wondered.

Patiently, Lorenzo walked with Giovanni slowly down the stairs and out to the villa gardens, keeping close to his friend should Giovanni require a hand, as he knew the other's pride prevented him from ever asking for help. "That is also why I came to Monteriggioni. To return your blade in person, as promised." With his city back, Lorenzo seemed happier, his azure eyes brighter and keener like a lion at the head of his pride. "It served me well in battle."

Giovanni smiled broadly. "Then I am glad. I knew you would wield it well, and if any weapon could protect you, it would." Though he was limping more for having made his way down the stairs, he seemed much happier to be outdoors, breathing the fresh air and looking around the garden with a sharply interested gaze.

"There was solid resistance, as expected, but with Galeazzo's troops at my back and the people of Firenze on my side, the Pazzi were quickly routed. I rounded up the traitors I could find, but most fled into the countryside like cowardly worms." Lorenzo's face was stony again, as he turned to Giovanni. "I know you are still injured, but if there is any aid you can provide in tracking them down..." He shook his head. "I cannot allow my enemies to regroup again."

"I fear that I would be of little use myself when I can barely walk. But ever since we fled, my two older boys have learned of their heritage and have been training hard. They would be glad of a chance to bring to justice the traitors who drove us from our home."

"Your sons?" Lorenzo looked a bit surprised. "You mean Federico, the one _nostro ministro_ wanted to throw in the stocks for that unfortunate incident at the bank?" he asked wryly.

Giovanni grimaced. "Federico might have a sense of humor that can be....improper, at times, but he understands how serious this situation is. Being forced to flee our home, seeing me badly wounded and then deathly feverish with infection - he and Ezio have had to grow up fast, since the coup," he said quietly.

"I know your intentions are good, Giovanni. However, I was hoping for someone with more experience." Lorenzo laid a gentle hand on the other's shoulder. "It is not that I don't trust your sons, but my enemies have many dangerous killers in their employ, and if anything were to happen to them..." Lorenzo knew he could not look a grieving Giovanni in the eye, as a father himself.

"I was not expecting them to run full missions yet, but perhaps some light intelligence gathering," Giovanni looked pensive. "Let me talk to Mario. He may have little love for you, but his nephews are dear to him. He might be willing to leave Monteriggioni in my hands while he goes with them as emergency support."

"Thank you, Giovanni." Lorenzo smiled, his hand trailing down to linger for a second on the other's back, before withdrawing. "Without your loyal support, I would not have been able to see this day."

Giovanni felt the lingering warmth of Lorenzo's hand on his back, and wondered again about his wife's theory. "No thanks are necessary, Altezza. Knowing that you survived and have retaken the city is all the reward I could desire."

He smiled at the younger man, but the moment was abruptly shattered when Maria came storming around a corner. "Giovanni Piero Auditore da Firenze, you get back into bed this instant!"

"So, Giovanni. Tell me about these chains your wife is apparently adept at wielding," Lorenzo said with a straight face, as he tried valiantly to pretend he'd had nothing to do with Giovanni's escape. It was rather difficult, considering his scepter was in the assassin's hand.

Giovanni gave Lorenzo a frantic glare. Letting Maria know he'd mentioned the chains was not a good idea.

Fearless even before the ruler of Firenze, Maria lifted her chin and gave Lorenzo a sharp look. "Altezza, I will thank you not to encourage my husband's delusions that he is well enough to be up and about. His impatience is understandable, yet he will be of little use to you if his leg does not heal properly."

"Of course, Madonna." Lorenzo dipped his head, putting on his most charming smile as he lied through his teeth, "I was just escorting Giovanni back inside after finding him limping about the gardens by himself."

Maria drew herself up to her full height. "Your sweet words may fool your political allies, but I am less blind. Shame on you for casting all the blame on a wounded man when you are just as guilty."

Lorenzo winced internally. The only other woman who could see through his lies so quickly was his own mother, bless her soul. "Perhaps we should make for the bedroom, posthaste," he hissed to Giovanni.

Giovanni nodded. "Ah, we'll just head back to my room then, la mia cara bella," he smiled innocently at Maria and headed inside. At the stairs, however, though he placed as much weight as he could on the scepter, his wounded leg still buckled beneath him.

Without a word, Lorenzo looped an arm around Giovanni and supported him patiently up each step.

"Mi dispiace," Giovanni muttered, looking frustrated with his inability to manage something so simple.

"Do not apologize," Lorenzo remonstrated. "You are only just recovering." When they got to the top of the stairs, however, Giovanni's grip slipped suddenly down to Lorenzo's side, and the younger man grimaced. That stab wound had still not healed completely.

Giovanni pulled away quickly. "You're hurt," he frowned.

"It is nothing." Lorenzo tried to brush off his assassin's concern. "The wound has already healed."

"Yet you still grimaced in pain when I accidentally pressed against it just now," Giovanni's frown grew. "At least let me check it and see that it was properly treated?"

"There's no need for concern. Your injury is far more serious." Nevertheless, when they entered Giovanni's room, Lorenzo reluctantly untied the sash at his waist and pulled aside his heavy robes, baring his chest to the naked air. Contrary to what he said earlier, the wound had not healed completely; his doctor had recently removed the stitches, but the skin was still red and the jagged mark where the dagger sliced was clearly visible all the way down to his hip.

Giovanni frowned with concern, running a hand lightly over the area to make sure that there was none of the heat or swelling that would hint at infection.

Lorenzo shifted a little at the touch, a small shiver running through him at the almost-caress. "As you can see, there's nothing to worry about," he said after an awkward silence.

"Yes, it doesn't seem infected," Giovanni seemed relieved. "That was lucky - had it been a little deeper and more centered on your abdomen, it would have been a very serious wound indeed."

"I was careless," Lorenzo said quietly, as he dropped his gaze. "When Francesco de' Pazzi knelt in surrender, I should have known he was reaching for a dagger in his boot."

Giovanni frowned. "It was my fault. I should have been there to protect you."

"No, Giovanni." Lorenzo touched the other's hand gently. "This was a battle I had to fight myself. For Giuliano," he said softly, fixing Giovanni with his light blue eyes.

Giovanni nodded reluctantly, the guilt not leaving his eyes.

"You have done more than anyone to keep me safe. If it were not for you, my life would have ended on the steps of the Duomo beside my brother's. And then la bella Firenze... she would be no more." Seeing that the guilt still hung heavy in Giovanni's gaze, Lorenzo squeezed the assassin's arm, trying to communicate his gratitude. "Your full recovery means more to me than this trifling paper cut, my dear Giovanni."

"I will recover as quickly as I can," Giovanni said earnestly, "so that I may hunt for you again soon. I will not deprive you of my aid for a moment longer than is necessary, I swear."

"Just see that you do not strain yourself." Lorenzo wagged a finger at him. "Otherwise, your Maria will be chaining _me_ to the bed as well."

Giovanni had a sudden mental image of himself and Lorenzo both chained to the bed, in a complete state of undress, and cursed his overactive imagination as he felt his face turn red.

Luckily, Lorenzo misinterpreted the source of the flush, chuckling as he said, "Don't look so embarrassed. I've suffered my share of unreasonable restraints from Clarice as well."

"Yes, but not literal ones," Giovanni mumbled.

Lorenzo coughed, his own cheeks tinting pink. There was that one time when his wife had discovered his poems to Lucrezia...

Giovanni's eyes widened and his flush renewed. An extremely awkward silence hung in the air for a moment before Maria came sailing in with a tea tray. At a glance, she took in Lorenzo's open robes and the two men's flushed faces, and gave them a knowing smile. "Excuse me, didn't mean to interrupt anything," she said sweetly, setting down the tray and leaving.

"Dio mio," Giovanni groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"Ah... perhaps I should clear up any misconceptions with your wife." Lorenzo rose and quickly pulled his robes back together, trying to be diplomatic.

"Er...I appreciate the thought, but likely anything you say is only going to fuel her conclusion. She's like that," Giovanni mumbled.

"I insist." Lorenzo was adamant now. "I do not want a simple misunderstanding to be the source of any marital troubles for you." He headed for the door.

"You won't," Giovanni said, then coughed to cover his embarrassment, his face turning red again. "Maria, she ah... already made that clear."

Lorenzo turned, looking confused. "You've had a conversation with her about... us?"

"I didn't initiate it!" Giovanni blurted, looking mortified. "Out of the blue, she just told me that she wouldn't mind if we were lovers."

There were few revelations that Lorenzo's many years of governance had not prepared him for, but discovering that Giovanni Auditore had discussed taking him as a lover... well, that caused the Principe di Firenze to very nearly choke. "I do hope there is a reason for your wife's sudden interest in my private life, my dear Giovanni," he managed to hide his surprise with sarcasm, "aside from simple curiosity. "

Giovanni wouldn't have thought he could get any redder, but he somehow did. Avoiding the question entirely, he instead muttered, "I told her it was ridiculous to think you would have any such interest, don't worry."

Lorenzo's face was quite unreadable, although inside, his thoughts were a storm. He had long since held desires for his assassin, from the day Giovanni swore his loyalty to Lorenzo, but had always had too much respect for the other to ever think of coming between Giovanni and his wife. Besides, it was not the place of the ruler of Firenze to love another, especially the man who killed for him. Still though, through the years, he'd tried to show his affections in any appropriate way he could, culminating in the gift of a beautiful palazzo right at the heart of the city... and but a short ways from Lorenzo's home.

And now, to hear these words from Maria... he glanced over at his assassin.

Giovanni wasn't sure what to make of Lorenzo's carefully blank expression. "I won't speak of it to anyone, and she also will be discreet. I swear," he promised. "We both know perfectly well that I am no different than the hawks you send after prey when you desire to hunt."

"I would think that you'd know by now you mean far more to me than that, my dear Giovanni." Lorenzo frowned. Had all his gifts and letters and rare displays of emotion meant so little to the assassin?

Giovanni relaxed a little, glad to know that Lorenzo wasn't angry. "Ah, I meant simply that you do not view me in a romantic light. I am honored that you would think of me as your friend."

"You have always been, and always will be, important to me. Never forget that," Lorenzo said quietly. He got up and reached for his scepter by the bed post. "I have a few matters to attend to in the town. Can I expect a response regarding our mission arrangement by this evening?" he asked, all business once more.

"Of course," Giovanni said immediately. "And you are welcome to stay for dinner. Monteriggioni may not be rich, but what is ours is yours."

"I would be honored." Lorenzo smiled graciously, before departing through the door.

*********

Maria looked up from washing the dishes and smiled at Lorenzo. "Altezza. Dinner was acceptable, I hope?"

"It was excellent, Madonna. The roast was tender and perfectly seasoned, and I must obtain the recipe for that cannoli you unveiled for dessert." Lorenzo smiled. "I can see why Giovanni is ever eager to return home, with meals like that waiting for him every night."

"Your Lordship is too kind. I'll see to it that your household gets the recipe." Maria gave Lorenzo a smile, and there was something subtly sly in it as she left the remark about Giovanni unaddressed.

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. So the lady wished to play word games, did she? "Thank you," he said, as he circled slowly around the kitchen, pretending to be interested in the various confectionary ingredients. "I heard you once ran a bakery in your family's palazzo, and it was there you and Giovanni first met. Tell me, was this the same recipe that led him into your arms?"

"Ah now, a lady never kisses and tells, Altezza," Maria laughed.

Lorenzo chuckled along with her. "It must have been, for him to change from - by his own accounts - an incorrigible rake to such a devoted husband."

Maria shrugged. "All young men have their wild oats to sow. Giovanni is a good man."

"I have no doubt about that. But you too must be a remarkable woman to have the patience to change his ways."

"You are kind to say so," Maria gave him a demure but still knowing smile.

"And he must have a great deal of trust in you, given what he has told me of your... candid conversations."

"Oh? And what conversations would those be, Altezza?" Maria smiled innocently.

"His purported interest in other lovers," Lorenzo replied, still dancing uncomfortably around the subject.

"Other lovers, hm? Such as yourself?" Maria smiled sweetly.

Lorenzo stifled a cough on his sleeve. He had not quite expected Maria to be that direct. "My name did come up at one point, yes, and as you can imagine, I was naturally curious about the circumstances of the conversation. I did not wish for any misunderstandings to harm your loving marriage."

"If Giovanni told you about that conversation, then you should already know that I do not see you as a threat to our marriage," Maria said serenely.

"That is good to hear, Madonna. I would never want to be the source of any estrangement between you and Giovanni... if indeed your husband were even ah, inclined toward men. Which, of course, he is not. So. It is clearly not even an issue." For once, the silver-tongued ruler of Firenze was stumbling over his words like an embarrassed schoolchild, and Lorenzo decided it was time to beat a hasty retreat. "My apologies, Madonna, but I just recalled some business I must attend to tonight. Thank you again for the lovely dinner."

"I would not have given him permission if I did not think it would be an issue," Maria said after him. "You may think he has no such interests, but no one knows a man like his wife."

*********

Giovanni watched in admiration as the falcon corrected its dive midair, stooping on the pheasant that was frantically trying to evade it.  "Magnificent."

Lorenzo's lips curved up with pride as the falcon's claws closed unerringly around its prey. Another hunt ended successfully, just as he knew it would. "His fourth pheasant this season. In all my years, I have not encountered another bird quite like him." He began walking toward the grove where the falcon landed, taking care to slow his steps for Giovanni.

"He is one to keep, to be sure," Giovanni agreed, following after.  "I know I have said it before, but thank you for bringing me here. As much as I love my family, home was beginning to seem a bit small."

Lorenzo shook his head. "Your company is all the thanks I could ask for. I am just glad to finally see you in good spirits. Although," Lorenzo paused, an amused glint twinkling in his eyes, "I can't imagine why a skilled assassin such as yourself would grow weary of reclining in bed, with all the best food and wine delivered to your lap." 

Giovanni grinned ruefully.  "I did appreciate the gifts you sent, Altezza, truly.  But even while I was glad to be back in my home, confinement grows wearisome for one accustomed to a very active life.  Just as this little fellow here," Giovanni reached over and stroked the feathers of the hooded falcon, "must be flown, not kept in his cage always."

Lorenzo chuckled. "You will have to come hawking with me more often, then. I am sure Apollo appreciates being flown by one who knows the freedom of the skies like himself."

"I would like that," Giovanni said wistfully.  "One thing I cannot complain about is having more time to do what I enjoy."

Lorenzo reached into his pouch and handed a few morsels of food to Giovanni, so his companion could feed the falcon. "Then it is settled, old friend. Next time, you must bring your own falcon as well. I wish to see if the Auditores' hunting birds take after the speed and grace of their master."

Pleased though he was at the praise, Giovanni looked uncomfortable as he fed the falcon.  "I'm afraid I have none.  My life has little leisure for such enjoyments."

Lorenzo silently berated himself for his unfortunate presumption. "Ah, my apologies." He made a mental note to purchase the most magnificent bird for Giovanni next Christmas holiday. "You handled Apollo with such natural skill, I thought you must be an experienced falconer."

Giovanni smiled.  "You are too kind.  My childhood home had eagles nesting on its highest roof, and as a boy I never stopped trying to befriend them. I got some of my first scars that way, but in the end they would come at my call and eat from my hand."

"Quite impressive." And indeed, in Lorenzo's experience, eagles were some of the hardest birds to train. "Is that why I often hear reports of a white-clad man leaping from atop the Campanile di Giotto, where an eyrie lies?"

"Not so impressive, you've no idea how many years it took."  Giovanni looked sheepish at the mention of the Campanile. "Well, I more often go there for the view of the city or for exercise - but yes, I enjoy seeing the birds as close up as is safe."

"It must be beautiful up there..." Lorenzo looked a little wistful. For all that he ruled over Firenze, he would never get to see his city the way Giovanni could. "Do you know, I have been trying for some time to commission an artist to paint Firenze from such an overview. Unfortunately, all the ones I've spoken to fear climbing to such heights." 

Giovanni rested a hand on Lorenzo's shoulder.  "You will find someone - someone who loves la bella Firenze enough to do that for her.  If I could paint, I would offer my own services, but I think you would not want that," he grinned ruefully.  "Still, why not come and see the view yourself?  There are interior stairs, for maintenance.  I am not allowed inside so for me it is easier just to climb, but you can go anywhere you like."

Lorenzo's lips twitched wryly. "Climb to the top of the bell tower just to see the sights? Next thing you know, rumors will abound about Lorenzo de' Medici's meeting with his secret amore." Still, he did pause to give it some thought. In truth, Lorenzo was more intrigued at the thought of seeing Giovanni make one of his breath-taking leaps up close.

"Oh come now, where is the good in being ruler if you cannot see your own city as the eagles do?" Giovanni said, a boyish grin on his face as he teased the younger man.

"Hah. I would rather be the eagle any day, than the ruler bound to a golden throne. But I suppose you are right," Lorenzo admitted, as he began walking back to their horses. "Next time church services drag past noon, the priest may find I've decided to finish reading the homily atop the Campanile." 

Giovanni laughed.  "I'll wait for you there," he smiled.

They rode at a leisurely pace back up the quiet, tree-lined path to the Villa di Careggi, making idle conversation along the way. For the first time since the attempted coup by the Pazzi, Lorenzo looked happy and relaxed, and Giovanni too seemed to let down his usual guard. This outing had been much needed by both of them. When they arrived at the villa, servants quickly tended to their horses and showed them inside, where a lavish dinner awaited. "I hope you'll enjoy the simple fare," Lorenzo said casually, waving at the table. "Normally, I would have a greater variety of courses prepared back at my palazzo, but it has been difficult obtaining some ingredients out in the countryside." Particularly chocolate - Lorenzo, well known for his sweet tooth, was none too happy when his cook told him that wild boar with chocolate sauce would not be on the menu tonight...

Giovanni smiled.  "I'm sure it will be fine.  I would have been content even if we'd simply roasted the pheasant your falcon brought us over an open fire."

"You are far too modest, my dear Giovanni," Lorenzo chuckled, ushering his guest to the table. "A pity you chose banking over Florentine politics... although I would say that were the wiser choice."

Giovanni snorted.  "You were the one who told me not to meddle in politics, after what happened in Milano."

"I told you to keep your guard up when dealing with Milanese politicians," Lorenzo replied, a little miffed at the reminder.

Giovanni's expression was both defensive and distinctly uncomfortable.  "What's done is done.  And we did not come here to argue, si?"

Lorenzo nodded in acknowledgement, though the stiffness still remained in his bearing at the memory. "I suggest you try the roast quail," he remarked, as the appetizers were brought out on silver platters. "Nicolo always does an excellent job with the white wine sauce."

"Grazie," Giovanni gave Lorenzo a warm smile, hoping to dispel the air of discomfort that hung between them.  "You've certainly spared no effort.  I feel like I'm at a king's table."

Lorenzo slowly relaxed as he settled into the meal, as good food and company eased his mind. "Oh, this is nothing. You must join my family for Christmas dinner this year. Then, I will show you some truly exotic dishes." The Principe di Firenze did love entertaining guests. "Do you know that in the Orient, they have thick forests of this plant that looks like tall, thick reeds? Bamboo, the natives call it. An excellent side dish to accompany roast beef or duck, particularly when flavored with cloves."

"You are too generous, Altezza," Giovanni said, impressed.  Reeds the size of trees?  It sounded outlandish!  How did one eat it?  And cloves were worth their weight in gold or more - to speak of using them so casually...  "The Pope himself surely could not offer richer fare."

Lorenzo laughed softly. "Ah, a humble banker like myself could never compete with The Divine," he feigned modesty, though in truth he believed his table could give the Pope's a run for his coin. "Besides, what the Pope cannot eat, he is sure to denounce as some new heathen pox." Clarice would remonstrate him for speaking in such a cavalier fashion about the Church, but then, his wife was not here. It was just Giovanni, and around Giovanni, Lorenzo knew he could always speak his mind.

Indeed, the assassin merely chuckled.  "It is the task of religion to fear that which it cannot understand, si?"

"Indeed," Lorenzo observed dryly, shaking his head. "The Church looks warily upon humanist pursuits, even when the intellectual traditions serve to fill their coffers, and of course with my associations in the Neo-Platonic school..." He sighed and bit off a piece of quail from his fork. "I cannot tell you how many times I've had to defend Pico della Mirandola against accusations of heresy. The man would make a bull in a china shop look discreet."

"He sounds a lot like Sforza," Giovanni said dryly.

"On the contrary, Galeazzo knows to give the Pope lip service. It's what he does outside of the pews that causes no end of grief."

Giovanni paused, a most peculiar expression on his face, then grimaced.  "I truly wish you had thought of some other way of phrasing that.  It is an image that I very much never wanted in my mind."

Lorenzo coughed, realizing the double meaning in his words. "Well, just try sitting through one of the Duca di Milano's speeches..." It was at that moment a servant entered, rolling a cart heaped with various steaming, savory dishes. "Ah, the main course," he said, thankful for the distraction.

Recognizing a deliberate change of topic when he saw one, Giovanni nodded.  "That looks amazing," he commented, not having to fake the impressed tone of voice.

And indeed it was, for Lorenzo de' Medici demanded nothing short of the best from his chefs. "Roast guinea fowl with peaches," he said, smiling. The syrupy, golden slices of fruit were a seasonal favorite of his - and of Giovanni's as well, he knew. "I thought you would enjoy it, given what you've told me of climbing the peach trees around Monteriggioni when you were young."  

Giovanni chuckled at the memory.  "Si, every summer Mother would scold Mario and I for sneaking into the orchards and eating until we'd ruined our appetites for all else.  It never stopped us from doing it, though.  I can't believe you remembered," he smiled warmly at Lorenzo.

Lorenzo returned the smile with honest affection. "I've a great fondness for your stories, my dear Giovanni," and for you, he thought silently, "as they differ so much from my own. As you well know, growing up I was hardly allowed much opportunity to run around the countryside. Your childhood sounds positively freeing in comparison." Lorenzo was also curious about Giovanni's training to become an assassin, but he suspected it was not a subject the other could divulge.

"You should have told me before, I'm happy to talk about my youth.  I know that I could never let you sneak out as often as you wanted."

"Yes, you always did have a talent for finding my hideaways," Lorenzo remarked wryly, as he took a sip of his red wine. "A wonder I did not realize you were employed by my father as an assassin for so long." Still, for all his seemingly sour remarks, Giovanni had let him off the hook far more than once... though Lorenzo attributed that, of course, to his own clever powers of persuasion. 

"I took great pains to hide that part of my life from you," Giovanni said quietly.  "You looked up to me, and I did not want that to change."

"There comes a day when we all must see the world for what it truly is, for only by recognizing the darkness can we learn to appreciate beauty." It was something his mother had said to him when, still mourning his father's death, Lorenzo was thrust unwillingly into the political spotlight. "Had I known your true profession, I would not have thought less of you. What you do - what we all do - is necessary to safeguard Firenze."

Giovanni smiled, the expression both grateful and also a little sad.  "Si, but you saw so much darkness so early.  You were never allowed to have the innocence and carefree joy that is every child's right.  That always broke my heart.  I never wanted to add to that, I wanted only to protect as much of your childhood as I could."

"You are too kind, dear friend. In truth, it was you who gave me some of the brightest memories of my childhood." Lorenzo's eyes drifted off into the distance, as he recalled the time he convinced Giovanni to teach him how to climb as the assassin did. It had been one of the most exhilarating experiences, running across the rooftops, hidden from the crowds of people below - right until he missed a jump and injured his leg. That had... taken some explaining to his father. "Though you yourself have hardly had a life of ease, with your duties both to family and your order."

"Hearing you say that, knowing I made a difference, makes me glad indeed," Giovanni smiled warmly.  He shrugged at the following comment, taking a drink of the rich dark wine Lorenzo had poured them.  "I knew when I proposed to Maria that it would be difficult to balance my family, my work, and my true calling.  I probably get less sleep in a month than most men do in a week - yet I have never regretted my choices.  My life is so much richer for having them in it."  He lifted his glass, his angular face softened by obvious affection.  "As it is richer for having met you."

Lorenzo was glad that he had the wine to blame for the flush that crept across his cheeks. "A toast then," he said, clinking his glass against Giovanni's, "to those true friends whom Aristotle calls, 'one soul in two bodies'."

"To shared souls," Giovanni said quietly, drinking the toast.

They sat in shared silence for awhile, the flickering flames from the fireplace casting a warm, orange glow over the table. When Giovanni finished his drink, Lorenzo poured another, and as evening turned into night, the bottles of wine slowly emptied between the two of them. With the thrum of alcohol in his veins, Lorenzo's thoughts began to wander, his gaze tracing the unbuttoned collar of his friend's doublet... and the olive skin below. He replayed Maria's words in his head, wondering. When a servant entered, breaking the silence, he abruptly sat up and asked, "Can I interest you in dessert?"

Giovanni stirred from his own reverie and smiled.  "I would enjoy that.  Forgive me, I seem to have let the conversation die."

Lorenzo shook his head. "There is nothing to apologize for." He gestured at one of the servants, who brought in a large dish of plump, red strawberries, carefully arranged in the shape of a wild rose. A dollop of thick, whipped cream curled up from its center, and the entire plate was drizzled with syrup. "Eat, eat," Lorenzo encouraged his friend. "The vanilla syrup is from my own private stock." A boyish grin played on Lorenzo's lips. "Fortunately, there is no one to scold me for lavishing it on my food, now."

"It looks almost too beautiful to eat," Giovanni admired the lovely presentation.  "And vanilla syrup!  You spoil me."

Lorenzo laughed. "If I didn't spoil you, who would?" He picked a strawberry up with his fork and twirled it delicately.

Giovanni smiled, selecting a berry of his own and dipping it in the cream before taking a delicate bit.  His eyes closed in pleasure at the sinfully rich flavor, sweet and tart and smoothly creamy.  The red juice stained his lips, a bit of cream clinging to one corner.

Lorenzo's eyes lingered on the other man's wet, glistening mouth, and he could feel the flush from earlier returning, as he swallowed his own strawberry with a quick bob of his throat. "Good?" he asked, diverting his gaze to the safer image of the wine bottle - curses, how was it empty already?

"Amazing," Giovanni agreed, licking the bit of cream clean.  He selected another, this time sucking the fruit clean of the syrupy cream before biting into it.

"I take it... you don't eat strawberries with cream often?" Lorenzo wondered if he should just leave the entire dish to Giovanni, given how... intensely the other was enjoying dessert.

"Not nearly as often as I'd like," Giovanni smiled, looking a little sheepish.    "And never with vanilla syrup."

Lorenzo made a mental note to send the largest bottle of vanilla syrup he could find to Giovanni's home on the morrow. "You, my dear friend, are missing out on a  _significant_  part of noble life. How could you have known me for so long and not once tasted vanilla syrup?" He shook his head in disbelief, tapping the table with the end of his fork. "At least tell me you've had raspberries in wine jelly. Otherwise, I may need to have a confectionery built into a new wing of your palazzo."

Giovanni chuckled at Lorenzo's joke.  "Wouldn't that be something.  I've always been a man of simple tastes - luxuries like strawberries with vanilla syrup and raspberries in wine jelly are more fit to grace the table of il Magnifico than that of a mere assassin."

"Giovanni," Lorenzo tsk-ed, shaking his head. "You are manager of the central branch of the Medici bank, and from what you've told me, descended of noble lineage all the way back to your great grandfather. You should hardly speak of yourself as a commoner."

Giovanni looked down at the plate of dessert, his smile and his appetite both abruptly gone.

Lorenzo stopped, confused by his friend's sudden reaction. "What is the matter?" His brow furrowed with concern. "Have I said something to offend you?"

"No, nothing like that," Giovanni shook his head, turning his fork over in his hands a few times as he sought the right words to explain.  "My great-grandfather was a sailor," he said finally, his voice quiet.  "After seeing his mentor, wife, father, and patron murdered, he fled to Firenze, where he used the money bequeathed him by his mentor to start over with a new life and new name.  Domenico Auditore he became, educating himself on how to think, speak, and act like those of noble blood.  He joined the court of Firenze, posing as nobility, and was accepted as such."  He gave Lorenzo a thin, tight-lipped smile.  "So you see, that is all a lie.  I have never been anywhere near your equal."

Lorenzo did not know what to say. In all his wildest dreams, he could never have guessed at such a revelation about the distinguished Auditore family. True, the other man hailed from an assassin order he knew little about, and by all accounts, his childhood home of Monteriggioni was in disrepair, but Lorenzo had always assumed, from the ease and familiarity with which his friend navigated the noble circles, that Giovanni couldn't be anything but the scion of an old, respectable family.

Now that he'd learned the truth, however, he could see why his friend had kept the secret for so long. Lorenzo reached out and gripped Giovanni's hand. "I am sorry," he said softly. "Had I known..." he trailed off, eyes crinkling, as he searched for an apology. "Forgive me, my words were spoken in ignorance. I never meant ill by them. All I knew was what you had told me the day we met - what my father and grandfather knew, from all the years our families went back. But you are wrong about one thing." Lorenzo fixed his friend with a clear, candid gaze. "A man's worth is not measured only by his blood, but by his accomplishments as well. For all you have done, all you’ve overcome, I will always see you as an equal."

Giovanni gripped Lorenzo's hand tightly, wishing he had the voice to tell the younger man how much his words meant.

Seeking a way to reassure his friend, Lorenzo combed his memories for tales of his own great grandfather. "I do not speak of him often, for the royals would never let such an admission pass, but my great grandfather too came from humble origins. His father was poor, and he was left little in inheritance. When he joined the family business, it was but a shadow of what it is today. But that did not stop him from reaching his goals. With shrewd judgment and perseverance, he managed the Medici bank, building up my family's fortune until on the day he died, he was the wealthiest man in Firenze." Lorenzo gave a small smile. "In fact, he shares your name. Giovanni di Bicci de' Medici."

The assassin smiled, giving Lorenzo's hand a grateful squeeze at the tale obviously meant to make him feel better.  "I can see where you got your clever acumen.  He would be so proud to see what his family has become, I'm sure."

"Hah!" Lorenzo laughed, easing the seriousness of the conversation. "And have a few words to say about the finances of the bank, I am sure. But come, enough talk of the past." He got up, and servants entered to clear the table. "Shall we retire to the study? I've acquired an excellent bottle of brandy that I think you will be interested in."

"That sounds wonderful," Giovanni smiled warmly, daring to rest his hand on Lorenzo's shoulder for a moment, his dark eyes grateful.

Lorenzo turned into the touch, drawing unconsciously closer to Giovanni, as they climbed the stairs to the study. Though they had spent such private moments together countless times, his heart skipped a little faster. 

The study proved to be a cozy room with an air of warmth that was more than just the crackling fire that drove away evening's chill.  Dark, richly shining wood paneled the walls and made up the furniture - elegant bookcases and comfortably cushioned chairs arranged around the welcoming hearth.  "Very nice," Giovanni smiled.  "I can see why you enjoy coming here so much."

"A modest haven from demands of public life," Lorenzo replied, though one could hardly describe velvet pillows as modest. Picking up the promised bottle of brandy, he poured two glasses and handed one to Giovanni before settling into an armchair. 

"Grazie," Giovanni smiled and took a seat opposite him, sipping at the amber liquid.  "Ah, magnificent."

Lorenzo took a long draught from his glass as well, eyes fluttering as the warmth infused his chest. "Nothing but the best for my friends." He returned the smile. 

It wasn't long before the bottle was running low and the fire dying down.  Giovanni was telling stories of his wild youth, his tongue somewhat loosened by the fine brandy, on top of the good, strong wine.  Normally he did not allow himself to indulge in spirits overmuch, but for the moment they were safe, Lorenzo's - and his own - foes routed.

The alcohol too was working its magic on Lorenzo, slipping past his barriers and slowly loosening the normally poised, restrained mask he wore in public. When Giovanni delivered the punchline to the story, he laughed, a loud, reverberating laugh that sprung from deep within his chest, and managed, "With your pants around your ankles? And yet, she still agreed to marry you?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Ah, your Maria is truly a saint."

"She is!  I tell her everything, and somehow she manages to forgive it all.  I thought for sure she'd get mad about that one time at La Rosa Colta where I mistook a courtesan for a woman - back then we had only just started seeing one another, of course, I stopped going there once things got serious - but she even forgave me that!"

Lorenzo nearly choked on his mouthful of brandy. "You mistook who for what?" He coughed, trying to catch his breath. "In the La Rosa Colta?"

Giovanni grinned sheepishly, his face a little flushed from both embarrassment and alcohol.  "I was too drunk to realize that the courtesan propositioning me was a boy - he had such a pretty face.  And when I found out - halfway through undressing him, of course - I decided to go through with it anyway!"

At any other time, Lorenzo's face would have turned the shade of a ripe tomato at this admission of sodomy, but a few bottles of the finest spirits changed a good number of things. He barely skipped a beat. "A boy, you say?" He tapped his cheek thoughtfully in a parody of the Officers of the Night, before an uncharacteristically bawdy smirk passed across his lips. "Ex parte post, or ex parte ante?"

Giovanni laughed, himself not sober enough to be shocked at Lorenzo's reaction.  "Ex parte post.  I'd paid for the full service, and that's what he gave me."

"Just as well. I doubt you would've been satisfied with only half a rump," Lorenzo observed smugly.

"Indubitably," Giovanni chuckled.  "Although I confess I was curious about his boasted-of skills with his mouth."

“A repeat customer, then?”

"Well..." Giovanni looked rather guilty, and very embarrassed.

Lorenzo cocked a curious eyebrow. Though they'd gossiped before about their private lives, he'd never quite heard in such... explicit detail about Giovanni's experiences with other men. He'd assumed that the assassin was, by his own accounts, a consummate ladies' man in his wild days of youth.

"Don't give me that look," Giovanni muttered, reddening further.  "It's not as though he was the only one I slept with.  The ladies still loved me."

A playful, teasing smile tugged at the corner of Lorenzo's lips. "Of course. I would never insinuate otherwise," he acknowledged, though his azure eyes danced with amusement. "The boy must have been truly... talented to capture the attention of an Auditore, with all the women you've managed to seduce."

Giovanni gave him a dirty look.  "He was," he protested,  "You would have bought him too."  He didn't realize what he'd said until it was out of his mouth, then he bit his lip, hoping Lorenzo was too drunk to be angry about it.

A brief, guarded expression flickered across Lorenzo's face, as he tried to decipher the implication behind the statement. "And since when were you so confident in my tastes, my dear Giovanni?" he asked lightly, studying his friend from beneath a hooded gaze.

Giovanni squirmed under that intent look.  "I spoke out of turn, Altezza, forgive me.  It was not a reflection of your tastes, merely the boy's skill."

Lorenzo was silent for a long moment, his face unreadable in the orange light of the fireplace. He chose his next words carefully to be absolutely neutral. "Tell me truthfully, Giovanni. What do you think of this... practice, these relations between boys and men? I do not mean the laws - they are what they are to maintain the political balance." And a delicate balance it was, given how many friends Lorenzo had a hand in exonerating from charges brought before the Office of the Night. "But what is it that leads men to such desires, and the church to oppose it?"

Giovanni hesitated, trying to read Lorenzo's expression for his true intent - but the younger man had always been good at keeping his thoughts from his face.  Perhaps if he'd been wholly sober, Giovanni might have had some luck, but not now.  "I think that what occurs between two consenting adults should stay between them.  It is none of the church's business what people do in their bedrooms, so long as no one is hurt.  As to why people do it?" he shrugged, "The same reason why people indulge in any form of sex - it feels good."  He was quiet for a moment before adding very softly, his expression ashamed, "Even with Galeazzo, I cannot deny that my body enjoyed his attentions."  

Lorenzo relaxed a little hearing Giovanni say those first words. Although he knew his friend was not a stranger to other men, still a part of Lorenzo had worried that the assassin might look at him with horror and disdain if he ever hinted at his desires for him. After all, it was one thing to engage in such liaisons in one's undisciplined youth, quite another when it involved two grown men - and the ruler of Firenze, no less. As for the incident with Galeazzo...

A pained expression twisted Lorenzo's brow, and he set his glass down on the table. "I... I must apologize for what I said about that, back in Milano," he began, uncharacteristically hesitant. "I did not mean to cast blame upon you for what happened. Whether you enjoyed it or not, whether you thought you were doing the right thing, it was never my wish to make you feel guilty. I only protested because you are my friend, Giovanni." His voice thickened with emotion. "A dear, dear friend whom I care deeply for. And as your friend," he brushed his fingers over the other's worn hand, "I never want to see you sacrifice your dignity, your self-respect, for me, no matter the cause."

Giovanni turned his hand to clasp Lorenzo's, squeezing gently.  "It is forgiven.  You spoke out of concern for me, and that is what matters.  And you were right, it was a mistake.  It should be me asking for your forgiveness, for being weak and foolish."

Lorenzo allowed himself a small smile. "You have never been weak or foolish. In fact, I have never met a man with such honor and strength of purpose as you."

Giovanni returned the smile in kind, giving Lorenzo's hand another squeeze.  "Thank you, Altezza.  It eases my heart greatly to hear you say that."

"Must you always call me by that honorific?" Lorenzo looked slightly sad. "Once, simply 'Lorenzo' was enough."

"You were a child then, and not the most powerful man in all Firenze," Giovanni pointed out.  But he never could refuse Lorenzo anything he wanted in the younger man's rare moments of sadness, so he added, "But if it pleases you, I will call you Lorenzo once more."

"It would mean a great deal to me if you would. I do not want my loved ones to know me only as the Principe di Firenze," Lorenzo replied quietly, the words slipping from his mouth before he quite grasped what he'd said.

"Si, Lorenzo," Giovanni smiled.  Then his mind caught up to what Lorenzo had called him, and he blinked.  "Loved ones?" he asked.  He regretted the question the moment it slipped out, but the fine brandy wasn't allowing him to be careful of his words.

It was not the way he'd intended the confession to go, and Lorenzo cursed his tongue for getting the better of him. "Yes," he said softly, meeting the other's dusky, brown eyes. Whatever happened next, at least the secret was out. "Does it surprise you that I desire you as more than just a friend? You who have been by my side since childhood, who have saved my life countless times. You whom I trust before even my own blood and kin." He tightened his fingers in Giovanni's hand, the cracks in his mask finally crumbling to reveal all the longing, the anguish that had been building up for years inside. "Is it any wonder that I love the man called Giovanni Auditore?"

"Lorenzo," Giovanni breathed, returning the grip.  He could feel his face flush with far more than the alcohol.  "I....I'm sorry, I never knew."

Lorenzo slowly lowered his eyes, his gaze fixed on a small crack at the edge of the oak table between them. "When I was young, I wanted to tell you. I would watch from the window of my tutor's room as you flew across the rooftops, the wind at your heels, and forget for a moment where I was. At night, I imagined you sitting on the sill by my bed, the moonlight dancing across your face." He flushed, recalling the lovesick memories of a child, and a hint of bitterness tinged his next words. "But how could the heir to the Medici household allow himself to be sodomized by another man? The shame of discovery, of what such a sin would do to my family, sealed my silence." Lorenzo's jaw clenched. It was shame, true, shame and responsibility, but also fear. For he had feared what might become of him if he were to deviate from the path laid out for him since birth, even as he envied the assassin his freedom to roam the skies. The bird who remained in its cage even when the door was open did not deserve its wings. Pausing to swallow around a lump in his throat, Lorenzo continued quietly, "Afterwards, when I came into my heritage, you were already married to your beautiful Maria - happy, in love, expecting your first child. And I... was the ruler of Firenze." His shoulders sagged in defeat. "Fate had indeed played a cruel joke." 

Giovanni dared to reach out, touching Lorenzo's cheek gently.  "You are not the only one who felt that things would be impossible between us.  I was so much older than you, when I looked at you and saw how beautifully you had grown up, how desirable a man you'd become, I felt like a horrible person.  It felt like I would be taking advantage of someone who was still a child relative to me, and on top of that betraying the trust you had in me.  And there was Maria, whom I did then and do now love dearly, and my children who would have been appalled to learn that their father was a sodomite carrying on an affair outside his marriage.  I think..." he brought Lorenzo's hand to his face, gently kissing the back, "that we waited all these years for things to be just right.  For us both to have the courage to admit to what we've wanted for so long, and to take it."

"Truly?" Lorenzo's eyes swept up, a glimmer of hope flickering through their clear, azure depths. But then, he wavered. "I do not wish to hurt your family." His brow furrowed. "I know how much they mean to you, and if Maria..." 

Giovanni looked puzzled.  "Maria said she'd had a talk with you, to make clear that she does not perceive you as threatening our marriage.  And as for the children, they are old enough now to understand, even if they need a little time to get used to the idea.  Assuming they even find out."

Lorenzo looked relieved, remembering the rather... interesting conversation he had with Madonna Maria. Nevertheless, he was glad of the reassurance by Giovanni. "Let us hope then that you will not have to do the explaining." Leaning in, he brushed his lips over Giovanni's in a kiss.

Giovanni's lips curved in a smile even as he returned the soft kiss, threading his hands through Lorenzo's dark hair.

Lorenzo caressed Giovanni's cheek, tilting his head to slowly deepen the kiss, his heart racing.

Giovanni made a soft, pleased sound, his tongue darting out to meet Lorenzo's teasingly.

Amused, Lorenzo chased the wet, ticklish sensation into Giovanni's mouth, pulling the older man closer. 

Giovanni willingly relaxed his jaw, letting Lorenzo explore his mouth thoroughly.  He ran his hand down the side of Lorenzo's head, pausing to trace the outlines of the younger man's ear.

Lorenzo leaned into the clever fingers, smiling.

Giovanni noted the lack of reaction and broke off the kiss, trailing his lips along Lorenzo's jaw instead.

Lorenzo gave a pleased murmur at the kisses down his jaw, even as he began unbuttoning Giovanni's collar, the warm, olive skin soft beneath his fingers. "Might I suggest... mmm... moving to a more comfortable position?" The table was becoming a little unwieldy between the two of them.

"Sounds good," Giovanni agreed, though he continued pressing soft kisses to Lorenzo's skin, trailing down his throat.

At first, Lorenzo considered his bedroom, but then Giovanni's lips found a particularly sensitive patch of skin, and his thoughts quickly turned to a closer location. "The rug. By the fireplace." He nudged at Giovanni. "Unless you'd prefer the table."

Giovanni's eyebrows rose, but he grinned boyishly as he led then over to the soft, thick fur rug.  He wasted no time in resuming his attention to the sensitive area, his hands starting to undo the fastenings of Lorenzo's layers of clothing.

Lorenzo murmured appreciatively at the skilled touch. He too continued deftly unbuttoning Giovanni's jacket, his experience with complicated ceremonial wear giving him a slight advantage. When the layers parted, he drew a sharp breath, eyes skimming over the various scars that snaked over the taut, fluid muscles. 

Giovanni shifted uncomfortably at the stare, hesitating in his own attentions.  "If you would rather I remained as fully dressed as possible, I will understand," he offered quietly.  "I know that I am no longer attractive."

"No!" Lorenzo protested, alarmed. "It is nothing like that. I only wonder..." His brow furrowed in concern, as he traced the jagged mark from a blade, which veered alarmingly close to Giovanni's heart. "...how many of these I had a hand in giving you," Lorenzo finished quietly. He wondered too if, having come to love this man, he could ever send Giovanni out on a mission from which he knew the assassin might not return.

Giovanni drew him in for a soft kiss.  "None of them," he said firmly.  "I was an Assassin before you were born.  If you chose tomorrow never to give me another assignment, I would still work on my own.  It is simply who I am."

Lorenzo did not look content with the answer, but nevertheless, he realized from the firmness in the assassin's voice that Giovanni would not be dissuaded. "Promise me, at least, that you will not let your pride prevent you from asking for aid." He returned the kiss tenderly, fingers combing through Giovanni's chestnut hair. "Even if you have the slightest doubts about a mission."

"I promise," Giovanni smiled and leaned into the touch.  "Anyway, now that the boys know, they're training to follow in my footsteps, so soon I'll have help."

"Oh?" Lorenzo raised an amused eyebrow. "I do hope your eldest has acquired more skill with the sword than he has at banking. In fact, from the way his ledgers looked at the end of the year, I would say he mistook banking for sword-fighting," he observed dryly.

Giovanni chuckled.  "I think he'll do better for having something a bit more active to focus on."

"Just like his father, hm?" Smirking, Lorenzo took the opportunity to nip at Giovanni's neck, his thumb tracing idle circles over the other's bare breast.

Giovanni shivered at the attention to his sensitive neck.  "I vote that we not talk about our offspring while we're intimate."

"A reasonable request." Lorenzo smiled wickedly at the other's reaction and continued sucking lightly at the warm flesh, delighted he'd found Giovanni's weak spot. "But then, how else shall we use our mouths?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Giovanni chuckled, his tone leaving little doubt of his intentions.  He managed to bare Lorenzo's upper body and paused, pulling back to enjoy the sight.  His eyes fixed on the scar Lorenzo had received on the steps of the church when the Pazzi had made their move.  He bent his head and gently kissed the marred flesh, his eyes regretful.

Seeing the sadness in Giovanni's gaze, Lorenzo knew what the assassin must be thinking. "Do not feel guilty," he said softly, caressing Giovanni's cheek. "If you had not been there that day, then I would have surely perished on the blades of my enemies."

Giovanni turned his head to nuzzle Lorenzo's palm.  "But your brother did," he said softly.  "And you were hurt."

Lorenzo traced his thumb over Giovanni's lip, even as his eyes hardened at the memory. "I was foolish," he said bitterly. "At least a dozen involved in the conspiracy, including the gonfaloniere himself, and not a suspicion passed through my mind until the first blow." 

"The fault was mine," Giovanni kissed Lorenzo's thumb softly.  "I should have known of it and warned you.  That Firenze fell was my failure and mine alone."

Lorenzo shook his head. "No, Giovanni. You were the one who saved it. Who else raced to my side when I cried out for help?"  He cupped Giovanni's cheek, replacing his fingers with a tender kiss to the other's lips.

"How could I do otherwise?" Giovanni murmured, pulling him close and deepening the kiss.

The simplicity of that answer made Lorenzo's heart ache. Wrapping an arm around the back of Giovanni's neck, he returned the kiss with great passion, a soft, whispery moan slipping from his throat.

The tiny sound made Giovanni shiver, and he ran a hand down Lorenzo's bare chest, exploring the warm, smooth skin.

Lorenzo leaned in to the skilled touch, his long fingers dancing along the curve of his lover's spine.

Giovanni made a low, soft pleased sound, almost a purr.  His hands stroked over Lorenzo's ribs, working towards the younger man's stomach.

When Giovanni's wandering touch brushed against the sensitive patch of skin below his ribcage, Lorenzo arched and shivered, heat pooling low in his belly.

Giovanni's eyes widened at the intense reaction.  "Oh, what's this?" he murmured, bending his head to kiss the sensitive skin.  

Lorenzo squirmed against the ticklish sensation, his grip tightening in Giovanni's hair. "A most... unfortunate weakness," he admitted reluctantly, seeing he could not hide its effect on him.

"Oh, I don't know that I'd call it unfortunate," Giovanni grinned wickedly, licking and sucking at the spot.

Lorenzo drew in a sharp breath, as his arousal twitched at the avid attentions. "Giovanni," he bit out, though whether it was a warning or a plea for more, one could not tell.

"Si?" Giovanni asked playfully, gently biting.

Lorenzo bit his lip around a most unseemly whimper. Knowing he could not hold out for long, he abruptly locked his legs around Giovanni's waist, using his height to his advantage to pin the older man to the rug. "You," he growled, lust igniting his eyes into blue flames, "are an insufferable tease."

Giovanni grinned lazily, shamelessly taking the opportunity to enjoy the view.  "And I think you like that."

Lorenzo silenced him with a searing kiss. Fanning his fingers out over Giovanni's chest, he began searching for the assassin's weak points, first tracing the outline of a collarbone, then rolling his thumb over a dusky nipple.

Giovanni murmured contentedly against Lorenzo's lips, tracing his fingers down Lorenzo's back to see where else the younger man might enjoy his touch.

Lorenzo arched into the stroking fingers, encouraging them to slide lower. Remembering how Giovanni had reacted earlier, he focused his attentions on the other's neck, laying warm, wet kisses down its length, where the skin pulsed with the assassin's lifeblood.

Smiling, Giovanni obliged him, stroking lightly over the dip of his lower back.  He shivered at Lorenzo's kisses, a thrill going through him at allowing anyone so close to such a vulnerable spot.

Lorenzo positively  _purred_ , undulating like a cat who'd got in the cream. Smirking when he felt Giovanni shiver, he bent his head and nibbled teasingly at the soft, exposed skin, letting his teeth scrape gently over a small ridge of flesh.

"Mm, feels good," Giovanni murmured, tilting his head back to give Lorenzo more room.  He kept up the caresses with one hand, running the other down over the swell of soft flesh and squeezing a handful of it.

Lorenzo swirled his tongue in response to the squeeze. "Does it? And where else?" he whispered, his own hands gliding down to the laces of Giovanni's breeches.

"There sounds good," Giovanni smiled, bringing his own hands around to Lorenzo's breeches.

Lorenzo deftly undid the ties and slipped his hand inside, curling his fingers around Giovanni's length. Eyes darkening, he gave it a light squeeze.

Giovanni moaned softly, his hips arching into the touch.  He lost no time in returning the favor, long fingers curiously exploring the sensitive skin beneath Lorenzo's own breeches.

Lorenzo echoed the sound of pleasure, capturing Giovanni's mouth in a kiss as he began slowly stroking the hot flesh.

Giovanni returned the kiss as he slid his other hand down the back of Lorenzo's pants.  When the broke for air, he asked breathlessly, "You have oil?"

Lorenzo paused, the part of his mind not drowning in sex or alcohol trying to parse the words. "Oil..." Somehow, that little detail had been completely lost on him - not that he'd expected the evening to end  _this_  way, all fantasies aside.

"Nothing like that?" Giovanni asked, dismayed.

Lorenzo drew back, looking decidedly embarrassed. "Well, there is the kitchen..." Unfortunately, he looked down at his pants, neither of them was in any state to sneak downstairs.

Giovanni grimaced.  "Do you have any lotion for your skin?  I have some grease that I use to clean my weapons, and some medicinal salve, if there's really nothing else."

Lotion... yes, in fact, he did have a bottle. Or rather, Clarice had one, but Lorenzo was sure his wife wouldn't mind him borrowing it - so long as she did not discover its purpose. "In my bedroom." He kissed Giovanni softly before rising. "I will return shortly." 

"Hurry back." Giovanni smiled. 

When Lorenzo returned, the assassin had finished disrobing and was lounging gracefully on the thick, soft rug.

Lorenzo's breath caught in his throat at the image, and for a second, his eyes glinted hungrily. He wasted no time in removing his own clothes and joining Giovanni, the light from the fireplace dancing over their twined, naked bodies. "My dear Giovanni," he murmured as he pressed the bottle of lotion into his lover's palm, "you're quite the sight to behold."

Giovanni drew him close, kissing him tenderly to show how much the words meant to him.  He put a little lotion on his hands and massaged Lorenzo's back, paying particular attention to the sensitive lower part.

Lorenzo returned the kiss, long and deep, spreading his legs to straddle Giovanni. He shivered at the feel of the cool lotion and rocked forward, bringing their arousals together.

"Mmm, so good," Giovanni moaned quietly, wrapping one slick hand around their stiff flesh and stroking slowly.  His other hand slid down to grab a firm handful of Lorenzo's arse.

"Ah, yes." Panting, Lorenzo thrust into the tight fist, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want you, Giovanni," he hissed in the older man's ear, equal parts order and plea.

Giovanni shuddered a little at those words, reaching further to press a finger against Lorenzo's entrance.  "Lorenzo, you too, so much," he said breathlessly.

Lorenzo spread his legs wider to give Giovanni better access, moaning as he felt the first digit push inside him.

"Ah, you look so good like that," Giovanni murmured, feeling himself twitch at the sight.  "So open and wanting."  He added another finger carefully, not wanting to hurt his lover.

"Only for you." Lorenzo kissed him again, harder this time, needier, rocking into the probing fingers.

Seeing that Lorenzo didn't seem to be in any discomfort, Giovanni added a third finger and stretched the tight ring of muscle slowly.

Lorenzo pushed back impatiently, wanting more.

Giovanni lifted an eyebrow at Lorenzo's eagerness, but crooked his fingers to rub against the most sensitive spot.

"Ah!" Gasping sharply, Lorenzo arched to meet the invading digits, his hands clenching in the rug. "Yes, there," he panted open-mouthed. Sweat trickled down his cheeks and pooled at the bottom of his long, pale neck, the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

Giovanni shuddered at the erotic sight, forgetting to be slow and careful as he impatiently stretched Lorenzo the rest of the way, teasing at the spot as he did. 

Lorenzo moaned, patience fraying too with each curl of those fingers. Quickly, he pulled himself up, dark, lust-filled eyes meeting his lover's for a second, before he pushed down onto Giovanni's cock.

Giovanni gasped as Lorenzo impaled himself, sitting up to wrap his arms around him.  "Lorenzo, are you all right?" he asked, his voice unsteady at the rush of pleasure.  "We should slow down, the first time is hard and I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm fine," Lorenzo panted harshly, though his nails dug deep into Giovanni's shoulder. Ah Cristo, he'd been too hasty - and the assassin could hardly be called small. Closing his eyes, Lorenzo took several deep breaths, willing his body to relax.

Giovanni reached up to rub Lorenzo's shoulders soothingly.  "Just take it easy, va bene?  I want you to feel good too."

Lorenzo smiled a little, touched by his lover's concern. "With you?" he murmured against Giovanni's lips. "Always."

Giovanni smiled at the words and kissed him tenderly, holding and soothing his lover. 

Comforted by the gentle touches, Lorenzo slowly eased down until he was wholly impaled atop Giovanni, his throat vibrating with a moan.  

Giovanni felt himself twitch as he was fully seated, his hands tightening on Lorenzo's hips.  "Ahh, so good."

"Yes," Lorenzo echoed, rocking forward, his palms sliding over Giovanni's sweat-slicked abdomen. 

Giovanni moaned and reached to take Lorenzo's reawakening need in hand.

Lorenzo arched forward into Giovanni's hand, a silent plea falling from lips.

The assassin cautiously rolled his hips, watching Lorenzo carefully for any signs of pain.

Though Lorenzo showed no pain, he did shift restlessly, feeling a distant spark as Giovanni came close to brushing that spot inside him.

Giovanni slowly pulled out and pushed back in, repeating the action a few times as he tried different angles to see what would bring Lorenzo the most pleasure.

At the third such thrust, Lorenzo's spine snapped straight and he gasped, "Ah, yes!" squeezing tight around Giovanni's cock.

The assassin shuddered at the constriction, arching up into his lover.

Moaning softly, Lorenzo began to set a steady rhythm. Although his body cried out for him to move faster, he deliberately drew out each rise and fall, wanting to savor his first time with Giovanni.

Giovanni kissed him, moving with Lorenzo's slow rhythm to take the younger man deeply.

Lorenzo returned the kiss with great passion, sliding his tongue between Giovanni's lips.

Giovanni returned the gesture eagerly, reaching down to wrap his hand around Lorenzo's arousal.

Lorenzo rolled his hips forward, hungry for his lover's touch.

"Dio, so amazing," Giovanni gasped as they broke for air.  "Lorenzo, you're so good."

"Oh, Giovanni." Eyes almost black with need, Lorenzo tangled his fingers in the assassin's long, sweat-soaked hair, pulling their bodies close to feel the friction of each thrust against his cock. "Want you." He nipped at Giovanni's throat. "So much."

"You have me," Giovanni promised, moaning and tilting his head back.  His pace was speeding up as his control started to unravel.

"Forever?" Though he was nearing the brink, shuddering both from the hard heat inside him and Giovanni's rapid strokes, still Lorenzo tried to hold on.

"Always," Giovanni promised, moving harder and faster.

Giovanni's agreement, more than anything, was what pushed Lorenzo over the edge, his muscles convulsing as he came with a loud cry over his lover's chest. 

The feel of his lover tightening around him was enough to trigger Giovanni's pleasure as well, and he emptied himself inside Lorenzo with a last few deep thrusts.

Lorenzo moaned quietly through his lover's climax, rocking back and forth until Giovanni was completely spent.

Giovanni groaned softly, feeling the movement wring him dry.  "Ahh, Lorenzo."

Only when the last shivers of pleasure had run their course did Lorenzo finally slip off and pull his assassin into a long, tender kiss, all the yearning of his youth in his smoky eyes.

Giovanni cradled him close, returning the kiss with all the love he had never dared express.

"Ti amo," Lorenzo whispered, the words forming a lump in his throat. "Ah Cristo, ti amo cosi tanto, Giovanni." Embarrassed by the sudden swell of emotion, more befitting a woman than the ruler of Firenze, he buried his face in Giovanni's chest. But his voice never wavered.

Giovanni held him tight.  "Ti amo anche, Lorenzo," he murmured tenderly, kissing the dark hair, "Sempre."

Lorenzo nodded and closed his eyes, wanting only to memorize this moment, the warmth of Giovanni's body wrapped around his.

"Caro, may I ask you something?" Giovanni said softly.

Lorenzo looked up at him with absolute trust. "Anything."

"Why now?" Giovanni asked, following the question with a tender kiss.  "I'm so happy you did, but what made you decide to say something?"

Lorenzo's eyes softened, and he leaned his head against Giovanni's chest. He began to speak quietly. "That day at the Duomo, I thought for sure I was going to die. When I saw my blood spilled on the steps, heard the triumphant cry of my enemies, I froze - and you flashed before my eyes, alone standing between me and their blades." Even now, the memory made Lorenzo pull the assassin close. "You've always been there to protect me, no matter the odds, and for so long I knew not why. Was it wealth? Politics? Why risk life and limb for a deposed ruler who had a slim chance at best of surviving? But then outside Milano, I started to realize the truth." 

His brow furrowed, as if it brought him pain to remember the next events. "Seeing you ride into certain death without blinking, just to give me time to escape, I felt as if my heart were being torn from my chest. And after you fell sick, I watched your condition worsen and worsen, fearing each day that you would slip away..." Lorenzo's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "When I think of how my brother died, how you and I nearly died without a word of this passing between us, I knew I could not keep my silence any longer." His eyes were pale and vivid, like polished glass, when he next met Giovanni's gaze. "I have many regrets about my life, but the one I cannot bear to take to my grave is never telling you that I love you."

The eloquent words went straight to Giovanni's heart, and he pulled Lorenzo into a tender, passionate kiss.

The kiss was all the response Lorenzo needed, and he twined his arms around Giovanni, putting all his love behind it.

Giovanni kissed him until they couldn't breathe, pulling back to lovingly caress Lorenzo's face.  "I have always been willing to die for my cause," he said quietly.  "But you are the first man I would give my life to protect."

Lorenzo cupped his lover's cheek. "I do not wish to see you risk yourself needlessly." His fingers traced a winding scar down Giovanni's shoulder, one acquired, by the looks of it, during their flight out of Firenze. "Though I am not a warrior like you, I will do all that is in my power to ensure your safety, so you never suffer for my sake."

"As I will always do everything in my power to keep you safe," Giovanni smiled.  "And perhaps my almost dying was worth it, if it could bring me this much happiness."

"The madness of love is the greatest of heaven’s blessings," Lorenzo murmured as he embraced Giovanni, and sealed his words with a kiss.


End file.
